When L'il sis Knows Best
by Total Vartan Lover
Summary: UPDATED 060506!Post Season 3. Vaughn is fresh from learning the last two years of his life have been a lie. Would he ever learn to trust again when he finds out the sister he thought had died turns out to be alive and a newlyminted CIA operative? R&R!
1. Default Chapter

"When L'il Sis Knows Best"Total Vaughn Lover Category: My storyline for Vaughn in Season 4 

Ship: S/V of course!!!!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to good o'l J.J Abrams, but the plot and Angela Theriault/Angela Vaughn is MINE!!

Emotional Content: High. I am a total drama queen. High Vaughn and Sydney angst due to the whole post Lauren issue, but Vaughn will also experience the angst of learning the sister he thought was dead is in fact....alive

A/N: Okay, so KUDOS to J.J for actually giving Agent Vaughn more issues than just wrinkling his forehead and worrying about Sydney, and instead torture us S/V shippers for weeks by making Lauren Reed his "snookums." (But that led to some intense scenes of how Vaughn dealt with the betrayal which Mr. Vartan executed marvelously!!)

But truth is...the only thing he left us with at the end of season 3 was Jack betraying Sydney (AGAIN!), Lauren dropping into a pit after being shot by her hubby, and the blessed moment of S/V PDA!

But then...where did the handsome agent with the green eyes, lopsided grin and wrinkled forehead go to? I think he deserves a story line, don't you?

So here you go then...

Part I 

"Prologue"

JTF CIA HQ, Los Angeles CA 

Most of the JTF was empty, most of the agents had done the smart thing and gone home to get some rest so they could start tackling the new dangers and defend the nation they loved again tomorrow.

Of course there were the few agents who were returning from Operations overseas and others who just were forced to stay because of their scheduled graveyard shift.

But one agent's desk was still on and everyone who passed by didn't say a word to him, in fact it was like he didn't exist. But he did exist, and they all knew what he had gone through, what kind of life this handsome agent had led for the last two years.

Agent Michael Vaughn, returned only hours before from his "Operation," in the middle east, could barely keep his eyes open as he struggled to finish typing his report. Director Dixon had requested he turn it in before he left for the night.

Considering the fact that he was fresh from learning about his now dead wife's betrayal, getting himself almost killed when he'd attempted to assassinate her the first time, and then going on a crazy goose chase to keep Sydney's life from being compromised while severely injured, he knew that he should have objected.

Had circumstances been different, he would have.

He closed his eyes for a moment to remember the last thing that had happened that last fatal moment where he'd sealed his wife's fate as well as his and Sydney's.

Lauren had called out some kind of code while she fell into the pit, claiming that it was important information for Sydney.

More importantly, he remembered what happened right after they'd shared their first "back together," embrace on that deserted camp.

(Flashback)

"Syd, come on, she's dead. She's out of our lives," Michael urged Sydney as he let her out of his embrace to bend down and put a hand to his bandage to curb the pain. "And I think I need to get back and see a doctor."

Sydney knelt down and pushed Michael's hand away. Michael obliged and let her open up his shirt. She gently touched the bandage and watched Michael wince.

"You'll be fine, but you should get back to L.A. You need to make sure you clarify with Dixon that you weren't really taking Weiss hostage, not to mention you have a hell of a report to write and an explanation for breaking what...50 rules of conduct," she chuckled as she helped Michael to his feet.

"But, everything I did...down to getting Lauren, was worth it. It'll take some time but I have you back in my life now. I can get through anything," Michael had told her as he laid another kiss on her mouth. Then he headed toward the chopper that was currently landing, only to turn around and not see Sydney standing there.

"Syd?" Michael had called out as loudly as he could while covering his face with his jacket. "SYDNEY!"

Vaughn was about to go ballistic but he calmed down long enough to answer his cell phone as it trilled in the pocket of his cargo pants. "Syd?"

"Hey Vaughn, sorry but...I'm not going to be going back with you tonight."

"WHAT?! Syd, where are you?"

"Don't worry, I have transportation set up. If Dixon asks where I am, tell him there's something personal I had to take care of."

"Syd, you're insane. Whatever it is, it can wait till we get back to L.A!" Michael shouted as he helped the extraction team load up whatever they could find on the site.

"No, Michael...you don't understand. I need to do this."

Michael didn't want to listen to this even though he knew that Sydney could take care of herself. Then it hit him. "Wait, Sydney...please tell me you're not going after that deposit box number. Come on Syd, Lauren lied to me for over two years, how in the world can you trust what she says?"

"I...I just have an instinct. I'll see you later, okay. I promise that I will call when I'm on my way back and I'll make you whatever you want for dinner my first night back in L.A, okay?"

Before Vaughn could answer Sydney had turned the phone off and that had been the last he'd heard from her.

(end of flashback)

Now he was in what Weiss called "Sydney-withdrawl" and the rest of the office knew it too. That was the reason they didn't tell him he should go home and take a nap. They knew when Sydney Bristow was not in the same country as he was that he couldn't sleep, he couldn't think, he was lucky if he could act sane.

Tonight though, there was another reason. He had no home. He had nowhere to go except the house that would only remind him of how gullible he'd been and the fake life he'd gotten himself into.

Vaughn got back to business and completed the last thought in his head.

"Former NSC agent, Lauren Reed was killed in self defense by myself. When I got to the camp, there was a disturbance there, it seems the woman who claimed to be Irina Derevko's sister was in charge of that Operation. I came upon Agent Sydney Bristow being brutally attacked by the Covenant informant Reed and I shot her several times. There is no way she could have survived."

Abruptly, he stopped typing then glanced at the blue screen of his monitor to check his report strictly for grammatical errors. He was still too emotionally distraught, his anger was still too real. And it was definitely too early to recap the events of the last two years and not want to make him strangle himself for being so stupid.

Somewhat satisfied, he hit the print button and waited for the file to come out. He then stuffed it into a professional-looking black folder, sent an e-mail version to Director Dixon's mail-box before he logged off the network.

He gathered up his trench coat and was picking up his briefcase when he felt a friendly tap on the shoulder. Vaughn huffed and turned around, hoping the party wouldn't be offended by his manners or short patience.

Standing there was Marshall Flinkman and Agent Eric Weiss.

"Guys, hey," Michael greeted, forcing a grin.

"Dixon told us you were back, thought we should come say hello," Weiss began and then shook Michael's hand. "Welcome back, and hey...no hard feelings with putting a gun to my temple."

Michael gave a good-natured grin. "Thanks, so...was that it? Cause I was just about to...'

"Actually Mike...I mean, Agent Vaughn..." Marshall began in his unintelligible banter. "Mr. Weiss and I were thinking that, you have been through a lot and I know that you have to learn to compartmentalize your emotions like you had to do with Sydney because you were married...which of course you're not now because you shot her yourself and"

"Marshall, I'm sorry but...does this have a point?"

Marshall brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Mr. Vaughn, we would like it if you would join me and Mr. Weiss for a couple of shots of this so we can drink your worries away."

Michael smiled apologetically. He needed a drink, now more than anything but. "Sorry guys...but I really don't think that..."

"Mike, if you're worried about drinking because you just had major surgery, don't worry. Medical services say that if you can high-tail out of here and make it back in one piece, you're fine," Weiss chimed in, not willing to take no for an answer. "Plus we've got good reasons to drink, I know you and Sydney are back together now and we can FINALLY stop having to deal with this awkward love triangle we had going there for a while."

"Eric, I'm..."

"No objections, Mike. We know you have things you need to tend to now that you're divorced and...widowed, and after a night of partying, you are more than welcome to deal with whatever divorcees deal with."

Michael knew Eric meant well but tonight he was not feeling it. He felt betrayed, guilty, hurt, stupid. He wanted to punch himself in the stomach till he threw up. "Eric...I really really need to spend tonight alone. I just got back...I have unpacking to do...I have...things I have to take care of."

"Michael Vaughn, forgive my bluntness but you were betrayed by a member of the opposite sex and normal Americans, my friend, would consider this an opportune time to hang with the guys and let them bad mouth the traitor along with you," Eric insisted. "Come on, Flinkman even convinced Carrie to stay up with the baby tonight so we can do this."

Eric shot Marshall an expectant glance but he was smart and decided against saying anything. He had noticed Vaughn's shoulders tense up and his knuckles turn white.

The next second Vaughn raised his steely gaze and pinned Weiss against the wall with energy he didn't think he had. Weiss looked into Vaughn's eyes and looked very uncomfortable. There was a darkness there, an anger that he knew he'd never felt.

"Eric, don't take this the wrong way, okay but...you don't understand. You...can't...understand! My wife never loved me. Our marriage was a lie yet somehow I had bought into it and wasted not only two years of my life, but of Sydney's!" Vaughn said in a gruff voice. "You haven't even had a girlfriend in the last three years!"

After Vaughn said that, he knew that he shouldn't have. Eric looked down, but the shades of his face was changing color. "Vaughn, man that's harsh. I know you have some damn issues but I didn't cause them. I let you point a gun to my head so you can save your girlfriend and this is how you repay me?"

"Damn it Weiss I never said..."

Too late. Before Vaughn could finish his sentence, Eric pulled Vaughn's arms down from his shoulders, then he shoved his fellow agent hard against his desk, sending items spilling all over the floor. Marshall just stood and watched for a second before he bent down to pick up a scattered pile of papers off the floor.

"Marshall, don't help him," Weiss ordered the innocent tech guy when he saw Marshall offer a hand to Michael to help him get back to his feet. "He knows he deserved it."

"But..." Marshall stammered, not sure what to do. His logical mind was telling him that the first thing he needed to do was get the stuff off the floor before someone tripped on it.

"No, Marshall...Eric is right. I did deserve it," Michael stammered as he held onto his desk and eventually regained his balance. He then gave his offended friend an apologetic glance, all the darkness now gone from his green irises. "I told you not to take it that way. It's not you...or you," he explained, looking at Marshall. "This just isn't something I can drink away, in fact, I think drinking is going to make this worse. I mean, look at what I just did? This is not me, I'm just so pissed off right now and...I'm not sure what I'd do if I get drunk."

There were no objections from the peanut gallery this time.

"Listen...I'm going to go hand this in and then I'm going to try and get some sleep."

Eric didn't say anything for a moment but then held his hand out to Michael and smiled. "I'll give it to Dixon," he offered and took the folder out of his hand. "You go and get some shut eye. I've got another hour to crash anyway, we're still waiting to hear from Sydney."

"Thanks Weiss," Vaughn said, looking grateful and held his hand out to shake. Weiss gave his hand a nice hard squeeze. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

"You got it," Eric called after him. "And don't worry Vaughn, if you start getting out of control and big headed, I'll knock you down a few notches."

Michael only nodded to him and Marshall then headed for the exit.

And Eric just watched him go with a heavy heart.

Marshall who's been quiet finally spoke up. "Mr. Weiss?"

"Yes Marshall."

"You know Mr. Vaughn more better than anyone. Do you think he's going to be okay tonight? By himself, I mean."

Eric shot Marshall a "his life has been a lie for two years, he just killed the woman he thought he loved, what do you think?" glare. But then he straightened his suit jacket, regained his professional demeanor as he said, "I should go turn this in."

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Vaughn's vehicle, somewhere down in LA

The ride home felt a lot longer than usual for Michael Vaughn but he was sure that the reason for that was because he wished he was heading anywhere but his house.

He could feel his breathing get heavier as he grew closer and closer to the familiar roads that led to his neighborhood, the roads that led to his and Lauren's "happy-home." By the time he drove up into the quiet driveway, his breathing was so constricted he tore off his tie.

He stared at the building before him and sighed. Where was he? He certainly wasn't home. Home was somewhere you wanted to be, where you felt most comfortable in. He was just having a problem sitting in the driveway!

He laid back against his leather seat and huffed. Did he have to do this? Was he really going to sleep here?

His key was still in the ignition and for a second he debated on whether he should go and find a motel or something. He had a packed suitcase in his trunk. But he found himself yawning and it was clear his vision and judgment wasn't to be trusted.

He felt incredibly stupid but he wasn't about to risk his life. He pulled the key out and turned his car off before he forced himself to get out of the car. It was even harder, he found, to step up to the front door. But he managed by constantly telling himself that Lauren was the one who screwed up, that he'd been just a nice guy and had tried to be an honorable husband.

Lauren, God, even if he's shot her, even if he knew she was dead, he wished that he could still strangle her. Finally he understood what had made Jack so bitter, what he saw every time he saw Irina.

Only he wouldn't have that problem because his traitor wife was dead.

He paused only long enough to turn the lock then trudged up the stairs with his suitcase. He paused again, right before the door to the master bedroom.

He was not ready for this. He didn't think he would ever be ready for this.

"Oh get a grip, Vaughn,"he scolded himself as he pushed the door open. He wasn't going to let Lauren overpower him now that she was gone. He'd purchased the house anyway. And how, he thought as he pulled a pair of sweats from his suitcase and changed into them, how was he supposed to move forward with Sydney if he couldn't start putting the past behind him?

Oh no, he was going to get through this. It was the only way he would be able to do Sydney justice. Even when he'd been married, he'd told Sydney that some things changed and some things hadn't. Now he had to prove himself by showing her that the divorce had been finalized. In fact, his plan for tomorrow was going to do his best to rid himself of everything that reminded him of that conniving slut, so that if when Sydney returned, she was willing to start spending the night, there would be no awkwardness.

They had to catch up on two years of missed time, heaven knew they didn't need any more of this separation crap.

He spent about two minutes in the bathroom, just long enough to pop some aspirin and soothe his face with warm water. He wanted to get out of there before he smelled Lauren's flowery body lotion or her 100 cream face wash. If he did pick up on anything of the sort, he was afraid he'd start shoving the crap on the floor and start destroying anything that she'd picked out (he certainly hadn't chosen the baby blue theme for their bathroom)

The only reason he hadn't torn the place apart was because he had no energy, and he hadn't bothered to turn on the lights so it wasn't like he could see any of their wedding pictures or the his and her mugs they'd received on their wedding day.

He took one look at their bed and decided there was no way he was going to sleep there. The bed looked unmade, just the way he'd left it the last time they'd gotten out of the bed together.

He was going to have to do some serious laundry before he ever touched those sheets again.

For now he would have to settle for the couch. He grabbed his pillow and a quilt blanket before he padded down the stairs.

A funny thought struck him. Didn't husbands sleep on the couch when they screwed up and their wives kicked them out of their bedroom?

And wasn't that exactly where he was heading?

But another thought struck him as he punched his pillow and settle down onto the cushions of his favorite piece of furniture. He couldn't relate because there'd been no marriage. And tomorrow, he'd make sure that everyone who known about the faux union would swear to him that they'd never mention it again because he would make it look as though it had never happened.

Starting with this, he thought as he yanked the golden band from his left wedding ring finger then this let it drop onto the floor. Instantly he felt a weight was lifted off his shoulders, but at the same time he felt an awkward emptiness. In the last two years, he'd only taken it off to take a shower or to occasionally wash the dishes.

But the only thought he would allow himself to be troubled by as he closed his eyes was not having Sydney by his side. He fit the quilt snuggly around his trembling body and drifted off to what he hoped would be a peaceful slumber, praying God would give him a break and let him be happy for a while.

The guy upstairs had to know Michael C. Vaughn didn't need any more life-altering changes right now.

So what did you think? No sister yet? Well, I had to write an explanation to where they left us off. But lots of Vaughn angst, hee hee. Aren't you loving it?

Please let me know what you think okay? I'm already working on the next chapter so it shouldn't be too long.

Stay tuned for the next chapter: Part I: A Message from Lauren

Kris (Total Vaughn Lover)


	2. The Dream

Hey ya'll!Thanks for reviewing my latest fic! You guys are so awesome! Things are about to get weirder and I hope that you'll stick around to find out what interesting things are going to happen.

So I proudly give you...

When L'il Sis Knows Best Total Vaughn Lover

Part II 

"The Dream"

That night Michael Vaughn had a very disturbing dream.

It started out with him drinking at a familiar bar, clashing glasses with Marshall, Weiss, Carrie and Dixon. And of course, Syd was by his side. It felt good to be surrounded by the people that mattered in his life and suddenly he felt very warm.

And he was having fun, in fact, he was having a blast. He spied an engagement ring on Sydney's hand and then checked his hand to see a matching band. His mind suddenly had life-like memories of how he'd proposed to her, and even better, how she had said yes.

Gosh, was he seeing a scene in the future?

Michael instinctively squeezed Sydney's hand and she turned to give him a concerned stare.

"Vaughn?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

"It's Michael, Syd, and yeah, I'm fine.," he whispered back then smiled. "I...I just wanted to say I love you."

Another smile from Sydney and then she leaned against his chest. Pure bliss.

"I love you too."

Then everything went black

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Michael didn't know how long he'd been lying there but when he woke up, he was surrounded by white. No buildings, no table. Just whiteness.

Heavenly white.

"Damn," he thought to himself worridely. "Had he overdosed on aspirin and didn't remember it?"

Though shaken, he slowly got to his feet and looked at his surroundings. Out of nowhere appeared a staircase, a staircase that went so high that it disappeared into the clouds. Michael couldn't tell where it headed.

His first instinct was to climb, but something in his gut stopped him.

He was overcome with the awkward feeling he was at the crossroads where he would be forced to choose between life and death. And he didn't even have to think about it, he was not ready to leave.

He stood there for a moment, wondering what to do to get back, then finally something happened.

Two figures, specifically a man and a woman dressed in the same heavenly white appeared and then descended down the stairs toward him.

Angels? But there something that looked very familiar about them.

He gulped. The man was unmistakably...hhis father....and.....

"Lauren....LAUREN!" Vaughn cried angrily when he realized who the innocent looking woman actually was. "LAUREN, who the hell let you into Heaven???" he demanded, his body shaking with anger.

Lauren only looked very sad. For a moment, he considered all this white light had perhaps made her not only realize but repentant for what she had done to him and the people in his life. But even if God had absolved her, it didn't take away the pain he and Sydney had suffered because of her mistakes.

"ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!" he cursed even though he knew God was probably very near him. If God was all knowing, he was sure he knew why Michael was so angry.

But the voice that answered him was not God. "Language, Michael Vaughn," his father chided him as he came into view, putting his arm through Lauren's and patted it tenderly. "That is now way to speak to the woman you killed."

"Wwoman I...I killed" Michael spat, in disbelief, ready to blow his top. "Did she happen to tell you how much of me she killed by making me believe Sydney was DEAD?" He glared at Lauren, disgusted by her holding his father's hand. "Let go of him, you have NO RIGHT to hold my father's hand!" And when Lauren didn't let go, Michael made a move to make her do it himself.

But once again, his father stopped him.

"Michael, I know you are upset but God has forgiven her as she has asked for forgiveness," his father said in his familiar-sounding voice that Agent Vaughn had been nostalgic for in the loneliest of nights.

"Father...I," Michael began but he kept getting choked up at the sight of his face, his deep green eyes, strong jaw and identical wrinkles on the forehead. "I am humbled that you would come to me after all the disappointment I caused you by mmarrying ththis woman. I...I miss you a lot, dad."

Michael father only nodded. He'd never been a man of many words so it didn't surprise Vaughn that he didn't have much to say now. But he did manage to say one thing.

"Michael, please try to listen and understand. God has given Lauren a chance to say something she needs to say to you before he can carry out the sentence that has already been set for her."

Michael had the daunting feeling that he didn't want to know what that was.

"Please son, I know it was a short time but I'm sure your mother brought you up right. This is the reason you are here now, please listen to her...no one....no one should deserve to go to Hell."

Michael thought Lauren should but he couldn't bring himself to reject his father's request. "Only because you asked, dad." Besides, he needed closure, and he was sure Lauren could not lie in the face of The All-Knowing.

Vaughn's father smiled briefly before he stepped back.

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In another minute the scenery changed and Vaughn found himself sitting at a table in a Starbucks café. Sitting across from him was Lauren, sipping her frappucino.

This was surreal.

Lauren put her cup down and finally looked at Michael. "I thought it'd be...easier, to talk in this kind of atmosphere," she finally began, her accent thick from emotion.

Hearing Lauren's voice was the breaking point for Michael.

"Lauren...Ms. Whoever you pretended to be, I shot you because I never wanted to see your deceiving face again," he hissed, closing his eyes to try and suppress his emotions. "How is it that you think I would want you haunting my dreams?"

Lauren dabbed her crimson lips with a napkin then looked at her ex-husband with the most saddest blue eyes he'd ever seen. "Michael, this was sort of my last wish before I go to hell. After this conversation my spirit will disappear. You won't have to worry about having to see me when you die. So please, please let me say what I need to say."

Michael felt uncomfortable. For some reason he knew his dad was right, no one's soul should be shattered, she should be allowed time to try and make up for the things she'd done. "I'm listening."

Lauren forced a pretty smile and tears spilled down her cheeks. "First thing you must know Michael is...when I met you, I was NSC. I wasn't the one in the Covenant, it was my mother. Unfortunately I didn't find out about her involvement till much later."

Michael had to try and remain expressionless. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear what she was going to say next.

"I won't bore you with any details but you must know that Michael Vaughn, I loved you. When I married you and you gave me your promise, I never felt safer. You were going to take care of me. I loved you so much that I didn't think of the consequences before making the biggest mistake of my life. But you have to understand, you are the one who made me feel insecure. You are the one who couldn't let Sydney go. My actions were just of a jealous wife wanting to save my breaking marriage by doing away with the woman trying to tear it apart. I wasn't trying to destroy the earth, my intention was to only get Sydney out of your life so you would look at me and let me be the only woman in your life."

"Lauren, that may be true but you joined up with the Covenant, the very people who destroyed my life," Michael reminded her, looking away. "Whether it was your intention or not, you betrayed the agency, you betrayed me. I mean...I know you were sleeping with Mr. Sark."

As though that name had triggered a very frightening memory, she suddenly grabbed Michael's hand, looking very serious and like a girl frightened from the sound of thunder. "Michael, I want you to know I forgive you, and since I can no longer love you, I am willing to...support...your new life, with Sydney."

Michael tried to tug his hand back and became irritated when she didn't let go. "Why should I believe anything you say?" he demanded as though he believed she could still threaten Sydney's life.

"Agent Vaughn, listen to me. Your life with Sydney is going to get better, even if it's rocky at first. She is going to want you immediate commitment but because of my betrayal you are not going to give it until much later."

What? Was Lauren now telling him what he was going to do? "You have some nerve telling me this."

"But that dilemma with Sydney is going to be the least of your worries," Lauren continued as though Vaughn hadn't spoken. "I'm here to tell you, the Covenant was planning to do away with me anyway because their plans changed. They were upset when I couldn't kill you. They also knew you would find me out, in fact, they assumed you already knew, that I told you, so they proposed an operation to make you regret thinking you could outsmart the Covenant."

Michael had told himself that he wasn't going to believe anything she said but that last comment gripped his heart and wouldn't let it go. "Just tell me it's not Sydney, tell me it's not Sydney."

"No," Lauren answered but her expression became even more apologetic. "But that's the point Michael. Sydney would be too obvious of a target. But someone close to you is in with the Covenant right now and they don't know it. It's been six months and they have told me, if I tell you, if they suspect you know they are going to kill that person as well."

Michael could sit still no longer. He lunged at her neck and spit in her face. "Lauren, If I could kill you again, I would. Tell me who the Covenant is after, is it my mother? Is it Weiss?"

"I'm not allowed to say. I'm only allowed to leave you with two hints. One is that this person is the last person you'd even expect this to happen to and two, if you don't figure it out before that bar scene you just experienced happens in real life, you've decided her fate."

Michael couldn't believe this woman. What she was telling him sounded like something that should be found in Rambaldi's text, another freaking prophecy! "How is it that you've found a way to affect my life even after I made sure that you wouldn't be able to? Now what am I supposed to do?" He then laid back and thought before he gave her an accusatory glance. "You knew about this, didn't you....and you never thought to tell me."

"I couldn't. The Covenant had me wired, thanks to my mother, who believed that if it came time that I had to kill you, I wouldn't," Lauren revealed, looking very desperate. "The other reason was because this person they chose hasn't had any close contact with you in years. I didn't think that there would be a problem, but now there is. God has shown me the future, Michael, and I'm trying to help you prevent it."

"If you want to help me, why won't you tell me who they're targeting? I mean, give me somewhere to start, is it family? Is it a friend? Someone I work with?"

Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can't say anymore, Michael...I can't interfere any more than that. I'm sorry."

Michael finally let Lauren go and watched her fall back down in her seat. "Then this conversation is over."

At the utterance of that word, their surrounding changed again. This time they were standing on what appeared to be a cliff, but instead of ocean water, it was molten lava that stretched out to the horizon.

Michael raised his arm above his eyes to block the steam and looked for Lauren.

She was no longer wearing white. In fact, she wasn't wearing anything at all, except the kind of facial expression present on the faces of those about to carry out their sentence on death row.

Michael stood only about five feet away, in utter shock. It just dawned on him that since he'd declared their conversation was over, it meant that Lauren's time with him was up.

This lava pond was the mouth to Hell.

"So, I guess this is...really...goodbye?"

Michael only nodded. If he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to keep down the bile that had rushed to his throat.

"I need you to know Michael that I didn't sanction it. I asked them not to impose harm on another one you cared about but you should know that's not something you should request and expect to be granted. I know you think I was all evil but I was human. And it was because I cared about you so much that I did notice all the pain you went through," Lauren concluded, then held out her palm.

What more did this woman want? And what more could he do, this was not his decision, he couldn't ask to have her fate changed, could he?

"What do you want, Lauren?"

"Your wedding ring," she said quietly with tears spilling out of her eyes like a strong river current. "I want to feel that mean, the symbol of your promise to me, one last time."

Michael didn't want to deny her request. He reached for his left hand then remembered that he'd already taken it off. "I...I took it off before I went to sleep."

A mixture of anguish and understanding contorted her face. "I understand."

But instead of backing up towards the edge of the cliff, she grabbed her widowed-husband and kissed him, and during that kiss she re-experienced all of Michael's smiles, his bad attempts to joke, his teasing and the way he'd seriously looked into her eyes to say, "I love you," several times.

Unfortunately Michael was forced into the same experience. But when she abruptly broke away, it was as if she'd taken all those memories because he was left feeling empty. Before he realized what was happened, he witnessed Lauren running to the edge and plunged over the cliff into the hot liquid metal.

"LLauren?" he found himself asking out loud as he crept over to the edge of the rocky formation. But she was gone. And then Michael let out an anguished cry, but didn't know for what? All he knew was he wanted to let it out.

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He felt a smack on his face. Another smack and then he could hear an insistent female voice repeating his name. But though he wanted to respond it was like he couldn't.

"Michael, man, snap out of it!"

He recognized the voice as Eric Weiss'.

As he slowly came to he was sure he heard Marshall's voice way, "he's okay, everyone please return to your business. No, no need to call 911."

"Who, where am I?" he asked, not knowing he'd said it out loud till Sydney grabbed his chin then turned his face so she could kiss him.

"We're still at the bar, but it looks like you may have left the room for a few minutes," she cooed as she rustled his blond hair. "I think you've had enough to drink. And maybe if I get you outta here now, you'll stay up with me a little in our bedroom."

Michael's eyes flashed open but then he squinted as bright light attacked his pupils.

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Yeppers, freaky stuff huh? Not meaning to offend anyone who's religious or not, just to let you know! So, I think you all know who that person is but is Vaughn? Hmmm, well you're going to have to tune into the next chapter!

And if you're interested please review my other fics. For those who are, be assured I am working on updating my other stories, should be up this week and remember, more feedback means more chapters!

Total Vaughn Lover.


	3. The Letter

A/N: Normal disclaimers apply and yeah, here ya go.

When L'il Sis Knows Best

Total Vaughn Lover

Part III  
"The Letter"

As his body woke up and his senses became more alert, his ears picked up faint chirping noises. He pulled himself into a sitting position and sighed with relief.

He'd been able to sleep through the night.

Physically at least.

Mentally, he was more exhausted then when he'd gotten to sleep, if that was possible. That dream and Lauren's frantic expression wouldn't waver from his mind. Was there truth in her words or was that just his guilt trying to make him feel bad for killing Lauren instead of bringing her in?

No, had to be absolute ludicrous. It was probably his being around all those rambaldi artifacts, and writing reports on prophecies that was making him believe her revelation. All he had to do was get into the shower, put on some clean clothes and all effects from the dream would likely disappear.

And that's exactly what he did. By the time he got back downstairs to fix breakfast, he was feeling a lot more refreshed and level-headed. And like he'd figured, he didn't see Lauren's anguished face in every thought and the appalling sensation of her leaving saliva on his lips no longer remained.

He actually began whistling as he reached into various cupboards to grab coffee grinds, cream and sugar.

He removed his mug from the cupboard and almost dropped it.

A Big "#1 Husband," in red decorated the heavy white ceramic.

Well, he was going to have drink from it for now as all the other mugs were dirty and still sitting in his sink along with the other dishes from their last dinner together.

He remembered it distinctly. It was after the death of Lauren's father. He had wanted to make his wife feel better after returning home and he had somehow thought cooking for her was a good idea.

Just like he'd thought marrying her would be.

He popped his now water-filled mug into the microwave for two minutes. And he realized something as he leaned back against the marble counter top with his arms folded.

He had to move.

Last night he'd thought tidying up the place and throwing out anything that reminded him of Lauren would do. But every room had its' memories.

Two years of memories and it seemed as though they were making their presence known, as though they were out to get him.

No, he wasn't strong enough for that. Just admitting to himself how naïve he'd been and trying to figure out how she could have messed with him so bad had wiped out all his energy.

He was starting a new life, he ought to buy another place, which should be no problem financially after he sold this one. And maybe there'd be a chance Sydney would let him crash at her place till he found another pad.

No, he had a better idea. He'd take her along on his house-hunting venture, it would make sense to pick out a house together as he planned to live with Syd for a long time.

He closed his eyes so he could enjoy the picture of her in his mind. God, he missed her. He really hoped Sydney hadn't trusted Lauren Reed's intel or at the least he wished she'd consulted him so that they could have gone together.

But Michael knew Sydney had always been very independent and that feeling had just grown stronger after she'd lost him to his new marriage.

And in a way, he supposed the separation was good. He had to go to court and file for divorce, to the morgue at the CIA office to make sure evidence of Lauren existing be erased and he had to go do some shopping to make this house feel homely till Sydney came home and he could put this and the past two years where it should be, in his forgotten past.

He pulled his mug out of the microwave when it stopped beeping and then took a nice long sip. Oh yeah the roasty bitterness of the coffee heightened his senses and at the same time gave him a sense of calm, just what he needed to start off his first day as Michael Vaughn, newly widowed bachelor.

Vaughn was raiding the fridge for breakfast possibilities when the phone rang. Not many people knew his home phone.

For a second he thought it may be Lauren but then he stopped his ridiculous assumptions and answered the cordless in the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Mike, man, sounds like you woke up on the wrong side of bed," Weiss snickered.

"Oh, hey Eric," Michael let out with a relieved exhale. "About yesterday, you know I really wasn't myself, and you know I turn into a completely different person, unfortunately not very pleasant."

"Mike, it's completely forgotten," Eric said with a laugh. "Dude, I know how hectic your life is right now. Unfortunately Dixon is not taking mourning husband as an excuse for your being late."

Oh crap, Dixon was expecting him to come in!

"Didn't he like my report?"

"Oh yeah, he did. But because you wrote in there that you shot Lauren and then requested you be given any update on Sydney's position, the mourning widow thing apparently doesn't qualify."

That made sense to Michael but Dixon was an understanding man. Didn't he think that he would need time to deal with the revelation that his last two years had been, put simply: a lie?

He probably did, he probably wanted him close to the office to make sure he didn't go looking for Sydney as his history would suggest.

"Mike, you are planning on coming in, right?"

There was a pause before Mike said, "Actually…Weiss."

Then Michael what's been going through his head from everything but the dream he was going to insist didn't bother him.

Eric was silent till he got to the house bit.

"What? You're selling your house?"

"Yup. I figured that since no matter how far I say I've moved on, living in the house that I purchased with my pretend wife can't be a positive step," Michael explained, but he was having none of it.

"Dude, you remember the excruciating search you went through to find that house? If I remember right, everything was accustomed to your needs. Lauren only liked the fact that it had three bathrooms."

That was true. Naturally since he'd forked most of the money over, he'd chosen a house that he could truly appreciate, Lauren had agreed as long as she got to decorate.

"Vaughn, I know you're really disgusted and you just want her out of your hair but selling your house the first day back is a bit drastic. And selling something that you can easily make better and like that Reed b didn't exist is just proving that you're still letting Lauren influence your decisions, bud."

Michael hated to admit it, and hated more that he had to hear it, but goddamit, he was right.

"You know, Weiss, sometimes I think you're really off your rocker, trying to tell me you know exactly what's going on with me and how you suggest I fix it," Michael began, as he reached to put a piece of toast in the oven toaster. "But then sometimes, you really know what you're talking about."

"Gee, thanks Mike…I think," Weiss retorted, thinking that it can actually be taken as an insult. "Does that mean you're keeping the house?"

"YYeah," he stammered, then said it again, sounding more sure of himself. "Yeah, after all, this house was built to last. I won't leave it unless Lauren starts to haunt it or something," he added with a chuckle.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, followed by a deep voice yelling," Agent Michael Vaughn."

"One moment," Vaughn hollered back, feeling a little irritated, "Hey Weiss, there's someone at the door. But before I let you go, tell Dixon that if I finish my business early, I'll try and come in for a few hours, but make sure he knows that's not a promise."

"Why don't I just tell him you're sick, that you're regressing and have experienced psychological trauma or something?" Weiss offered, sounding quite sincere. But Weiss was the kind of guy who could probably look at the most ugliest creation on earth and joke, "I'll date her," while keeping a straight face.

"There you go being stupid again. Don't you tell him that, Eric, you hear me?"

"Don't worry, I won't," Eric answered, the smile clear in his tone.

"Weiss, I'm serious…WEISS!" Vaughn shouted but Eric just clicked off. Vaughn only hoped that he was joking and wouldn't just do it to see him cringe.

He clicked off the cordless then hurridely pulled the burning pieces of toast from the oven and slipped the hot slices onto a plate before he went over to answer the door, amidst the doorbell ringing that had never stopped.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Vaughn yelled, as he unlocked the door, forgetting to put the safety chain on.

Standing there were two men, dressed professionally, wearing trench coats, identical to the ones he owned.

He didn't even had to ask. They looked and acted like they were on official business and there weren't many secret agencies.

"Agent Vaughn?"

"Yes," he answered, his voice a bit shrill, suddenly feeling embarrassed that he'd come to the door in his dark sweats and white t-shirt. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

"We have a delivery for you," the young looking of the two said matter-of-factly and pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket and thrust it towards Vaughn who just looked at it.

Now he really wished he hadn't forgotten to put the safety lock on. "What is that?"

"A letter, Agent Vaughn," the older of the two harrumphed, his irritation apparently mounting. "Take it, Michael, it won't explode if that's what you're worried about."

This comment made Michael even more uneasier than the fact that he had the nerve to address him by his first name. It was obvious these men knew him, so why did he feel like he'd never seen them before? And why were they so eager to give him that letter if it didn't contain any anthrax or some biological weapon?

"Who's it from?" Michael asked then, ready to go back in the house and slam the door in their-high-strung faces.

"You should read it and find out yourself."

"And why should I do that?" Michael demanded, shocking the two men. "You obviously know I'm an agent of some secret agency, my taking precautions shouldn't surprise you…unless you're not from the agency." Then Michael paused and backed up. "Who are you guys?"

"You don't have clearance for that information, at least not until you read this letter," the older man shot back. "But to gain your trust, I'll tell you this. We know about what happened to you and that your deceased wife was a well-placed mole in the CIA for the Covenant, and I promise you, we're on the same side."

But Michael still had his doubts. How could he be cleared for the contents of that letter when he didn't even know if this meeting had been cleared through Langley?

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to decline this meeting and the letter until I speak with the head of Operations," Michael regretfully informed them.

The two men exchanged glances and then the younger of the two stepped up to Michael and gave him a sincere look. "I admit, this is of a personal matter, but I promise, it's nothing that will endanger your life. Please," he said, placing the letter in his palm, "read it, I promise you won't regret it."

Michael still felt uncomfortable but something about the young man's sincerity helped him put his guard down. "Fine, but only because you don't look like you want to screw me over. Heaven help you, if you are."

The two men look relieved.

"But if you two or any of your friends ever come to my door again without identification when I ask for it, I'll handcuff you…myself."

"Understood. Now go ahead and return to your normal life and we'll leave as though this never took place," the oldest agent said with a pleasant smile.

"Yeah, you do that," Michael urged them on and made sure they'd boarded their car before he went back into his house and locked the door.

He set the letter on the table. He suddenly remembered he was still hungry and the toast was waiting for him in the kitchen. But as he settled down to enjoy his breakfast, he was overcome with guilt and curiousity.

He supposed he could eat while he read.

He finished chewing then moved his food and himself over to the living room. But instead of reaching for his food, his hands went directly for the letter.

After settling himself comfortably on the blue cushions, he picked it up and looked for a return address.

But the only thing printed on the brown envelope was his name, "Michael."

Then he looked again and he felt the color drain from his face. The writing was identical to that that was written in his most prized possession, his father's diary.

He couldn't bear to look at the envelope.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be a letter to him from his father. His father had died when he was eight years old. And if that was why, then why had those men waited till now to get it to him? What was so important that his father couldn't tell him till now?

"Oh Michael, read it already," his conscience scolded him, and somehow he calmed his hands long enough to unfold the yellowed parchment that had been sealed for probably over ten years.

He took a deep breath then read, his heart pounding harder with every word.

_Michael, Son. _

_If you're reading this letter, it means that what I believe to be true has happened, I am dead. You are probably aware that I worked for the CIA and if your mother didn't inform you of that fact already, then this will be my first chance to be honest with you._

_Son, I suspect that you probably twenty-nine of thirty years old if you're reading this, assuming my co-workers kept their promises and assuming you managed to live this long even as the CIA continues to consume all aspects of your life as it did for me. _

_Yes, Michael. I know that you're grown up and joined the agency, I only hope it is more than to avenge my pending death._

_You read that correctly. There is a dangerous mission that I'm about to undertake and I am ready to lay my life on the line for my country no matter how much you will hate me for it. _

_But since you're an adult now, you should understand better than if you were eight, if I assumed correctly and you have joined my world. You probably take that risk as often as I've done. _

Michael had to wipe a tear away. He was shocked at how this man was with words, not to mention how devoted he was to his job, and he realized he was as similar to his father as he'd always wished he was.

He returned to the letter after taking a gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

_"But what I'm about to tell you is probably going to make you hate me more than the fact that I have passed on…_

_Your mother is pregnant, she's six months along now and we already know it's a girl, your sister. So we named her Angela Christine, Angela cause she'll be an angel sent from above as you are, and Christine to your Christophe. _

Angela Christine Vaughn. Seeing that name broke a gate to a place in his heart where he'd stored all the grief of losing his one and only sister. Angela was his sister, a beautiful light brunette with huge hazel eyes that were gold as his were green. She'd flashed a huge smile and called him, "daddy," every time he'd held her in his arms and bounced her on his knee, or kissed her on the tummy.

Well, until she'd died suddenly , a few days after her third birthday, a fact he still couldn't come to terms with, the reason why he still hadn't told anyone, not Sydney, not Weiss. In fact the only person he was sure knew about Angela or her dying was his mother.

"_I know that you would have been a good brother, and I also know you can take care of your mother after I'm gone, that's why I' not worried, only a bit sad._

_But you mother I have talked and we decided to give Angela away to a foster home of one of my very old acquaintances . Since I know I am going to die, I know I won't be there to protect you from my assassins, should they decide to come after you and your mother. These people already know you my son, and they may be seeking revenge as I've killed off their kind…but they don't know about your sister yet and because I know you will understand, we will send her away before she gets mixed up in our life."_

"Too bad she died before we carried out your plan, dad," Vaughn chuckled in a morbid sort of way.

_"We know that you will try and go find her if we told you where she was, so we decided not to. Instead, though it makes me sick to think I could even think of this …we have decided to tell you that she died. That same day she will be transferred to a new family and she will grow up in a world different from yours. We've made sure there's no way your paths can cross."_

Vaughn had to reread those words to believe they could have been written. But no matter how many times he blinked, the words didn't change.

It was really hard to stomach that after his father had died, his mother would have the nerve to tell him that his sister, the new meaning for his life, had died of some mysterious illness, who in their right mind would?

Why was William Vaughn telling him this now? And more importantly, if she wasn't dead…where was she now?

Michael had to put a hand to his sweating forehead. There was still another paragraph to go. He wondered if he could get through it. He knew he had to, the end wouldn't probably haunt him if he didn't.

_"Michael, I'm so sorry I have to do this to you but since I wasn't going to be here, I had to do what I felt I should do as a father, which was to make sure no one ever found out about her. Son, it's not that I didn't' trust you, but unlike me, who followed all orders without question, I'm certain that is one similarity that you won't inherit from me. I wish things could have been different but I felt having two children grow up apart instead of not living at all, was a price I was willing to pay._

_Finally I come to the reason of my letter. You must be wondering if I did this just to torment you, I didn't intend that in anyway. If you are thirty years old, then your sister should be twenty- one. Meaning she is an adult and it's time I remove my protective shell._

_And if you have received a letter from me, you sister has received one from her foster parents, and unlike yours, your mother has added her input throughout the years and she should have left her with a way to contact you and as she's my daughter, I don't doubt that she will. The Vaughns will find each other, as there's so little of us, it's when we're together that we are strong. _

_I only hope she hasn't joined the agency as I suspect she has. Call it maternal instinct but I know you two will make excellent officers and will be willing to risk your life for your country. And since I'm not there, I know I can't stop you or your sister._

_Michael, please don't be angry with your mother. We could have made a mistake but we tried to bridge the gap by notifying you with these letters. I pray you and your sister will finally be able to meet and accept the reasons for our actions. _

_We love you both very much,_

_Dad_

Michael stared at the last word and wondered how he was supposed to feel, was he supposed to be mad, sad, relieved…definitely not forgiving.

The only thing he knew, as he clumsily folded the letter and stuffed it under the phone book on the glass table, was that he didn't think his dad had a right to call himself a father.

He lay back, trying to drink it all in.? It was bad enough being apart for eighteen years but the letter had showed up on his lap six years too late. God, where was Sydney at a time like this?

He sat up and spied the cordless sitting on the table.

That letter could be a lie.

There was only one other person who could tell him the truth.

Michael selected the phone #"s on the phone then selected 5 and hit enter. He leaned back on his couch, trying to calm down. The plan was to call her up as though it was normal to suddenly announce that his dead sister was alive.

After three rings, a voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Maman?" Michael greeted in his cheery, trying to sound normal voice.

"MMichael, what a surprise! How are you?"

"Oh fine (other than killing my ex-wife and knowing my parents totally betrayed me) Hey, sorry to burst in you like this but I had to talk to you. Two men I'd never seen before, dressed like agents, came to my door and handed me a letter."

"Oh?"

"A letter…written by my father."

Mrs. Vaughn let out an audible gasp. "MMichael."

"No," he cut in. "All I want to know from you is, is mmy sisister…aalive? Is Angela Christine Vaughn…living under some stranger's name?" he demanded, not wanting to hear anything, no excuse, no explanations, just the truth. "Maman, please, it's not like I can't find out where she is."

After a long silence his mother gave him the answer he expected but couldn't fathom.

"Yyes Michael…yyour sister Angela…she's alive."

He was sure he'd just been socked in the gut. "And do you know why that letter didn't come till now? Did you delay it for some other sick reason I'm not going to find out for another ten years?"

"MMichael, mon cherie, please…"

"TThanks mom. That's all I needed to know….I got to go. Bye."

He heard his mother protest but he continued to pull the phone away from his ear. By the time he clicked off, he was sobbing uncontrollably.

He'd loved his sister. At nine years old, he'd tried to be the father she hadn't had. Losing her had changed him, he'd turned into a bit of a loner which had become more apparent as he'd grown into an adult, married to his job. Losing his father had been hard, yes, but with Angela, it'd been different. Despite what he'd been told, that her heart had suddenly stopped, he'd always felt that he'd someway been responsible for her death, that maybe he'd bounced her too much, or squeezed her too tight or…a lot of things. All light seemed to have been removed from his disposition until he'd finally decided to block it out, when he'd joined the agency.

Still, how could his parents betray him?

How could they cheat him of out of twenty four years of his sister's life?

If it was possible, he felt worse than yesterday when he'd watched his traitor of a wife fall to the ground. His world had come crashing down and he didn't have any hope or the strength to put it back together.

And at this point, he didn't trust anyone enough to ask them for help.

So! Finally I've updated! Yeah, I know…so sorry but I know I have to continue writing this, especially since Season 4 is starting up again! Hopefully you'll forgive me. My new years resolution is to write more often! Sorry…I'm such a busy person as I know a lot of are but I know that's not excuse.

Please review, things are going to get interesting as Angela is finally revealed. How exciting!!!!!

Lots of love and happy new years,

Total Vaughn Lover.


	4. Introducing Angela ChristineVaughn Theri...

A/N: Thanks for the person who reviewed. Hoping for more reviews this time around, in fact, I'd be elated if I know at least five people are reading! Thanks for your support!

When L'il Sis Knows Best

Total Vaughn Lover

Part IV

Introducing Angela Christine-Vaughn Theriault

The next "Sydney Bristow"

**CIA FARM- in a crowded meting room. **

May 5th was a very exciting day for the FARM, the institution, school, if you will to prepare smart, clever, risk-loving young people for a career as an international spy or any position in the CIA.

This time around, the FARM had started out with 200 agents, by the time the "graduation," had happened, 45 regular civilians had been graduated into CIA agents.

Of course not all of them would make it past their first weeks in the actual environment, and certainly not everyone who made it through their first grueling, sometimes redundant feeling jobs would be put out in the field. Even if the instructors felt they were fit to be one of the many loyal agents working for a huge government association, the prestigious Central Intelligence Agency.

The bottom line: not everyone is Sydney Bristow.

But then again, there were people in the room who were going to accomplish and aid in completing many dangerous missions, bring in lots of stolen cash rooted in crime families for centuries, live feeling tired but with purpose everyday. The forty-five newly minted officers didn't know it now but one of them would end up dying a heroic death to save the life of the rest of his team, leaving behind two young kids and a very devoted wife.

And the world was just days away from meeting another uber spy, someone who might even give the extremely bright, clever agent who spoke almost every language on earth, Agent Bristow, a run for her money.

"Agent Theriault!"

A most exotic-looking, professionally dressed young woman in her late-twenties looked up from her p.d.a that was covered in swavorski crystals to acknowledge the team member who'd addressed her. "Hey," she greeted, flashing a very pretty smile, enhanced by her plump full lips and huge hazel eyes, more golden than green, decorated with naturally long dark eyelashes.

"Do you mind if I take a moment of your busy schedule to invite you over here so the team can engage in possibly one of the last conversations we'll ever have as a team?"

Angela Theriault punched in a few more notes into her schedule. It was currently filled with things that didn't mean much to her as it did other debutantes across the nations: cotillions, glitzy parties her parents were holding to celebrate the anniversary of their very successful, world's second richest industry, Theriault Corporation, and of course she'd penciled herself in for that night, her last birthday party at home before she turned to grin at her awesome team.

After all, starting tomorrow, she would be spending the majority of her hours working on reports, assisting senior agents with hoodlum tasks, but most importantly. She would no longer be living under her parents at the family's luxurious fifty room mansion, have time to drive her luxurious Corvette convertible or spend her generous allowance which her siblings never felt was enough.

From what she'd heard from her one interaction with a real agent, she's be lucky if she slept.

But that didn't bother her half as much as it did for her other eight new friends who were already dreading their first day on the job. She'd been the odd one out of the three socialite Theriault daughters and that wasn't limited to looks, though even there, they couldn't be more different. Both her sisters, Anastasia and Samantha were the finest all-American blondes while she had full shiny amber strands and she hadn't received her sister's sea-blue eyes or model height.

And while they'd spent their times with rich boys, letting themselves be even more spoiled with thousands in gifts, she found herself always feeling uncomfortable and afraid to get in that situation that she'd even been a no-show at her big sweet-sixteen. Then to top it off, she'd spent the night with someone of the opposite sex, who ran in the same social circles as her, only he had dreaded the limelight as much as she did.

She'd aced all her academic subjects and had a knack for learning foreign languages while her poor cheerleader sisters bragged that all they learned in high school or their ivy league college was how to coordinate their ridiculously long nails to their clothes and the best way to walk to get a man's attention.

Angela loved her sisters a lot but there was a reason they were no longer as close.

Since Anastasia and Sam had been small, they'd been dreaming and calculating how much their parents should leave each of them to be fair while Angela…well, she'd prayed that she could so something to serve her country and hoped there was a bigger purpose to her life than looking pretty, getting drunk and getting married to the perfect man with the perfect hair.

Of course everyone probably noticed she wore nice suits and brand-name heels, but having different values than "money, money, money!" and proving she had a brain underneath her pretty head definitely had helped in making her team forget her last name and meet the easy-going, motivating people pleaser Agent Angela Theriault.

She didn't tell anyone else, but when she'd signed up, she'd seriously considered dropping her last name and going as Angela Christine Vaughn instead of using Christine-Vaughn as it was, her unusual middle name. The Theriault fortune just wasn't going to help her in this situation.

"Angie, didn't you hear us?" a sweet but seriously blond twenty-eight year old asked her. When he got not response, a most-nervous looking Asian woman shrieked, "Oh, she's been working so hard, she's broken! I think we broke her!"

"She's not broken," a very built brunette assured them as he wiped his sweaty hands on the knees of his ironed slacks. The team always teased him that he should be a wrestler or a quarter back for one of the football teams, not that they didn't take him seriously. After all, looks wasn't everything, Angela had proved that.

"She's not answering!" the Asian woman retorted, her almond eyes narrowing.

"No, she's can't be broken," "QB" boomed as he stretched into the air. "Remember what this girl can do. She can do a full session of intense role-playing on the Main Street, then immediately after take one of those even more invasive psychological tests and then work in the Vault and write a report herself, in record time and get only one bad mark. Man, do you all have any idea how much sleep deprivation that would mean for me?"

The team members snickered at each other and the blond boy, also the hottie in their group took a jab at insulting the QB who had become one of his very close friends. Angela could feel her cheeks and wished she could disappear on the spot. She'd come to the Agency to get away from all the attention, but it seemed to follow her everywhere. But to a point, she supposed it felt good, after all, she'd earned all this attention by herself.

"And I believe that bad mark was because the damn report had been too long," the blond teased as he turned to Angela and jabbed her playfully in the side "You smart little cookie, you make us all look bad."

"I bet you she's the only one in this room who isn't afraid to be sized up next to the people who have years of experience," Asian woman beamed, looking very proud as though Angela was just another one of her kids, she had two small sons.

"She's also the only one who hasn't made one negative comment even though she knows that the senior reps are going to eat her alive," a shy but very intelligent former ER surgeon chimed in. "Man, I heard it's going to be just as bad as medical school but Angela is like bring on the dead guy!"

"Guys, stop! Please stop," Angela giggled as he pulled her long hair back into a medium ponytail. "We're about to get our assignments and that's the reward for all our hard work. Besides, I don't want to look more anxious than I am."

"Yeah, we certainly wouldn't want Kenneth Atkins to think you're finally succumbing to his subtle flirting," Joyce Allen, former pilot of the air force added in a girly tone that one wouldn't believe could come out of a twenty-five year old's mouth unless you saw it.

"Well, I believe all you'd have to do is put some of that powder on and make yourself look pale again," a mean voice sneered and it wasn't coming from any of the eight members on her team. "But before you do that, the instructor might prefer you be red in the face. He might foolishly continue to believe he's good enough for you, after all the man who marries you gets early retirement."

Angela closed her eyes to keep from saying what she'd wanted to say since the day she'd been the wannabe agent who's only intention seemed to have changed from searching for her soul mate to competing with Angela Theriault's looks. And of course to get her team's handsome instructor to turn his head.

Her eyes flashed open though when she heard the QB shift in his seat, or the blond start breathing slowly to curb his anger and motioned for them not to say anything. The whole team knew that this wannabe seemed to also enjoy nothing more than to remind everyone Angela came across that she was a rich snob and the insults just got worse whenever her team did better than theirs, when jealousy turned its jealous head or whenever one of her new pals couldn't control themselves from saying exactly what they felt.

And of course, the guys thought they were doing her a favor trying to put the bitch in her place.

"Karen, for the umpteenth time, you suck at it, everyone knows you're damn jealous so retain some dignity and lay off," QB scolded sternly as he straightened his tie. "I mean you know, we know, heck the instructors know that Theriault is talented."

"You mean Vaughntario?" Karen shot back, another way she thought she insulted Angela by making it appear she was actually not a member of the Theriault family and that Vaughn wasn't part of her middle name.

"She can speak almost all languages and she didn't stop from doing anything even though she wasn't very confident," Dr. Davis pressed on, "I'd like to see you do that."

"The only reason she can speak those languages is because she's rich, and she sings opera," Karen sniped. "And Dr. Davis, if you don't' mind my asking, are you finally admitting to yourself that you have to tell her how you feel before she leaves you forever?"

Dr. Davis turned more angry than Angela or the team had ever seen him. "You can say anything you want, but know it holds no credibility until I see you talk yourself out of a situation like our Angela did, which you failed at I remember correctly."

Angela, the former air force pilot and the Asian woman just watched and shook their heads, clicking their tongues as they watched their men go against such a meaningless woman.

Note: Team works becomes as serious as life and death at the Farm, that it leads to defending team members when threatened, even in casual conversation.

"So immature you are, Karen, aren't you ashamed to call yourself an agent? I wonder how many instructors you slept with to get them to pass you," hottie retorted which led to the rest of the team attacking the one with the innocent Agent Theriault, who had finally drawn herself away from the ruckus and had instead turned her focus to the contents she carried in a black folder. They were important items like initial paperwork, every report she'd been written down on, feedback on her pretend missions and finally a sheet of official looking documentation that identified her as an agent with her own number and code name: Destiny.

She hugged the folder to her chest as if she would never let it go. After all it represented what all her hard work, determination and emotional brawls with her parents had purchased.

She bit back a sob as a thought occurred in her head. Tonight, she would have to tell them she was leaving. From day one, they'd hated the fact that she'd chosen this way of life. She didn't necessarily expect them to be thrilled but she did want them to realize how much heart she'd put into making her dreams come true and at the least be proud of her effort even if they could never accept her decision.

She only hoped they'd make an effort, it was her twenty-seventh birthday after all.

"Actually, you are all acting like kids from what I can see and I'm ashamed to name myself as the instructor who signed off on the paperwork to declare you agents," a male voice bellowed from the doorway.

All chatter ceased at the sound of his presence. There was no mistaking that voice. It was Agent Kenneth Atkins, thirty-two, former Marine officer in Special Ops. His career in the agency was only eight years. This was however his fourth proud year serving as one of the instructors at the FARM: The CIA training academy.

He was the individual who was about to release them into the real agency by assigning them to sub-offices all around the world. He'd already mentioned he regretted graduating them.

It was a bad start.

"Fortunately there is one person that I can always count on to be right on task," Agent Atkins added, smiling broadly at Angela who was wondering what everyone was looking at. Everyone was glaring at her and since they were convened as a graduation class, they happened to include the mean ones who seemed to think teasing and taunting applied to this institution. Didn't they know that "Yes! See ya suckers! I've got my Ph D, nothing can stop me now!" attitude wasn't tolerated? In fact it was nice to have a degree but here it wasn't that extraordinary.

Agent Atkins sighed as he stared at the jokesters in the room. They could only imagine how small their degrees and certificates were going to matter when they finally met their co-workers at their respective rotundas. All but one. "Angela Theriault, dressed professionally as usual and always ready with a smile and of course the folders that would contain paperwork to make my job easier. Well done, Ms. Theriault, you are the hope of this outfit."

Angela lifted her head only high enough to see her trainer's intense eyes. She could feel heat creep up into her cheeks when he smiled at her flirtatiously, the way he'd started to do since the first time she'd flipped him onto his back during a combative lesson.

QB, Dr. Davis, Asian woman, hottie, pilot and the three other members of her team were all in agreement and was giving her pats on the back and friendly squeezes on the shoulders.

But the other teams were jealous and therefore were acting disgusted. Karen didn't seem to care that an actual CIA officer was standing in the room. She still said just barely audibly, "teacher's pet." Of course loud enough for poor Angela to hear.

Angela felt the nerves in her hands tighten and she jerked just slightly. Her team gave her reassuring comments and promises to kick Karen's slutty-butt after this meeting was over.

Agent Atkins had a different plan. No one but him and the other instructors knew the only reason they'd led her graduate was because they'd gotten Intel she was going to sue for prejudice and favoritism if she got relieved. And unfortunately for the instructors, she'd hadn't done so badly that they would have just reason to let her go.

"You know Agent Garner, you're right," Agent Atkins agreed and smiled at her. Only it was so sarcastic even she couldn't deny it. "Agent Theriault may be a teacher's pet. But she…I repeat, she is the only one who is so exceptionally skilled, so amazingly adaptable that I've convinced myself so many times that she is actually a CIA agent.

"And just what do you think Agent Theriault would be doing here then?" Asian woman inquired, looking worriedly at Angela, calculating the possibility that it was true.

"Well, I suppose as an agent currently undercover as a CT to make sure our training methods are still applicable to make our trainees ready for the responsibility held by true CIA agents," Ken continued then smiled at Angela in a way that made him appear intimidated. "It's a rumor you know, that Langley sends one of their best every few classes to evaluate the ability of the instructor. I think Agent Theriault may be that one."

Karen became silent and embarrassed. Angela wished she could turn around and smirk, enjoy this low moment for the one who'd been trying to see her fail their whole time together but she couldn't…she just wasn't brought up that way.

"I know all of you have probably suspected favoritism but none of you, whether you're jealous or because you don't like her family name, if you are taking this process as seriously as we are, none of you should be able to doubt her obvious gifts. If I was endangered right now, I would trust her with my life…which is more than I say for you Agent Garner. I've been watching you and how you've directed your team, very well. But since day one, you've had some other motive than to throw yourself into these exercises. If you are planning to go through with this, make sure you'll be doing it for the right reasons."

Agent Garner couldn't help but feel humiliated but Agent Atkins' voice was gentle and his reasoning not only made sense but proved what all the trainees already knew, he was truly devoted to the mission of the secret agency.

"Well, that's not how I expected this morning to go. Sorry Agents, I know you al still have a lot of packing to do and as most of you will be deployed within the next seventy-two hours, I think we should go and get you all assigned to you…assignments." Agent Atkins grinned as he went for a dramatic pause then he stood up and looked at his agents as he did when he had ordered them around. "If you will all follow me," he instructed them.

The eight members left from their original fifteen also gathered their belongings and nervously filed out of the room, after giving nasty and haughty glances to the bad-tempered other group who's instructor was (gasp!) late.

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After what seemed like an hour later, Angela sat in what had been their break room for the duration of their training, trying not look at her teammates. She was so afraid she was going to cry if she did, and she didn't think her co-workers would think very highly of her doing that.

The meeting was going as she'd envisioned ever since she'd gotten a definite date for their class graduating the training year. All eight of her team who felt more like family members were convened around the table, trying not to perspire or sniffle while tall, extremely intelligent Agent Atkins paced before them and gave them one of his encouraging speeches.

Then finally, one by one, he called them to the front and handed them a folder, each containing the paperwork for their first official assignment as twenty-seven year old Angela looked on.

Agent Christopher McKray, "Hottie," was the first to get his job, then Agent Darryl Nixon "QB", Agent Joyce Allen "Pilot", Agent Jason Davis "Dr. Davis", Agent Yukiko Arson "Asian Woman" and then of course the three other agents of their group.

Angela felt warm tears pool at the edges of her wide eyes. The comment Hottie had made earlier that morning was finally hitting home. This moment, this time they spent in this break room was the last time they would be together as the number one team for the classes of training squads of 2004. Seventy-two hours and it was possible they were never going to see each other like this again.

But she realized something amazing that made all the pain seem worth it. By the time her friends had sat back down around the table, they looked more confident, determined, ready to give their life at the nation's mercy. Asian woman didn't look as whiny, and QB's expression looked more serious and anyone would believe he had actually grown a brain. "This is amazing. Agent Atkins must have sent them all to their dream destinations," she thought brightly.

She could hardly wait for hers. And now that the others had received theirs, it shouldn't be long till it was her turn.

"Okay, now finally…"

Angela almost jumped up. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all her life. Her exit out of her life as the odd one out of three Theriault Heiresses.

"…I just wanted to say that it's been a pleasure training you and getting to know each of you. Despite what I'd said this morning, I am okay with releasing you all into the sophisticated world of the Central Intelligence Agency."

This comment elicited some nervous laughter from the former CT's.

"I hope you learned from me and that I've made you feel ready to jump into your jobs and give your all. Good luck, make me proud aight?"

This comments was heard then absorbed deeply within each soul in the room. Then for a moment all professional demeanor went out the door and there was a lot of hooting and clapping. They all expected cool and collected Kenneth to enforce policy but even if the room looked like a pep rally, the instructor laughed as he got pummeled on the shoulders and shook everyone's hands.

Obviously it hadn't been long since Kenneth had become an agent so of course he remembered the relief and celebratory screaming he'd done when he'd been handed his first original CIA folder and been told by his strict trainer that the only reason he'd made it all out to be like boot camp was because he'd known all along CT Atkins could handle it.

And he'd been right.

There was talk within the eight of going to the local pub to celebrate, only Angela sat there, paralyzed from shock. No one had asked her whether she wanted to join in even though they knew she didn't drink anything but French wine.

Heck, she hadn't even been given her assignment.

"This has to be a mistake," she repeated to herself, on the verge of breaking down, not that she would show it on the outside. Didn't Agent Atkins just get done saying he would trust her with his life? This could not be happening! Not now…not when she was so close to proving to herself and the world that she was more than a rich kid, she had what it took to be an international spy.

As she looked up at Kenneth, who now just looked like one of the guys, even in his dark suit and matching tie, she started hoping that he reason why she hadn't gotten paperwork was because she was going to be sticking around here and partner as something to the sweet…sexy…K…

She immediately slapped a hand to her forehead. She couldn't believe she'd just had that thought! No longer was the guy her instructor but still…she couldn't really be fantasizing about an agent before her first day on the job, could she?

No, that was out of the question. Besides, she had a boyfriend, when he was around anyway. She was currently dating Julian Roster, Twenty-nine, an international business man who made frequent stops in the strangest of countries. But the strangeness had been what had attracted her to him and of course her parents disapproved…or they would if they'd found out about her secret liason.

"What am I going to tell Julian?" she suddenly panicked by herself when she realized everyone had headed out, including her trainer. She'd actually been telling him that she was interning as a biochemist and waiting to land a job with a pharmaceutical company and lie or no lie, he knew her "interview," was today and he was going to be asking her. Or she assumed he would if he remembered and decided to actually come to the phone and talk to her instead of leave these damn weird messages with his co-workers that were relayed to her whenever she called in.

In fact, Angela wasn't sure she could handle another, "I'm busy," excuse. She knew she had to come clean with her boyfriend of six months and she refused to tell his "trustworthy," assistants a damn thing!

She waited as patiently as she could but the silence was preying on her last nerve and she realized she was drumming her fingers.

Drumming fingers was a pet peeve of hers.

That was the proof she needed, she was about to have an anxiety attack. Agent Atkins couldn't do this to her! The CIA couldn't possibly be thinking about putting her aside, not when she'd scored so well and proved to everyone that this occupation was her destiny.

So where was Kenneth? Where was he!

"Oh god," she prayed, placing her clasped hands around the silver cross that hung around her neck. "It's my twenty-seventh birthday, I know birthday wishes don't come true but please, God, Please…tell me this is my purpose in life, that you will let me fulfill my purpose…let me be an…"

A door creaked open and Angela instantly put her hands down and anxiously turned to look. Standing in the doorway, looking as gorgeous as ever was Kenneth, trying to catch his breath, looking apologetically at her

"Agent Atkins," she exhaled, relieved. She almost added a, "did you realize you'd forgotten something," but it didn't make it past her thoughts.

"Angela!" he gasped, looking very pink from concern and shame. "Angela, were you waiting all this time?"

"It was only five minutes," she reassured him with a shrug, trying to convince him it had been no big deal, though honestly she'd felt she'd gone to hell and back.

"Agent Theriault, don't insult my intelligence. I know how anxious I was to get my assignment and embark on my new life," Kenneth reprimanded her as he walked into the room then headed for the counter. "I can only imagine what kind of thoughts must have run through your head when we all left," he groaned as he poured himself a warm cup of coffee from the pot then spooned in some cream. "Admit it, Theriault."

Angela didn't want to but she did, feeling she'd be betraying him if she didn't. "Okay Agent Atkins, I did freak out al little. I mean I worked myself up even though I knew I'd probably be last and then when I didn't hear my name, I…"

"Angie, you are the only one who deserves this. Please tell me you couldn't have believed we'd let you just go," Kenneth pleaded as he put a styrofoam cap on his paper cup. "I really did head to my office just now and it wasn't until I sat at my desk that I realized I hadn't told you to join me. Notice I'm out of breath. I ran back! I was afraid you'd leave."

Angela thought if she wanted to, she could really guilt tip the overly confident agent but then again, she didn't feel like upsetting him and she had to admit, she was clearly touched by his genuine apology. "I wouldn't have until I spoke with you. Thanks for coming back for me."

Kenneth stared at her for a long minute then finally managed to say, "you're very welcome, Ms. Theriault." He took a sip of his coffee. Whoa, caffeine really woke up the senses.

"So I would like to have you join me and head down to my office so we can discuss the very special opportunity we have in store for you. Enjoyable as it'll be, this could take a while. How do you fix your coffee?"

Angela chuckled, thinking Atkins couldn't be serious. "I'm already close to hyperventilating, do you really want to make me more jittery?"

To Angela's relief, Kenneth laughed warmly as he headed to the door with his single cup. "Nah," he said with a very boyish grin, "I guess not."

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So anyone crushing on Kenneth yet? Well, I think you all know but this is the Angela mentioned back in the letter, Vaughn's mysterious sister who turns out to be a heiress, no really, her family even knows the Hiltons! LOL. Please review, remember as long as I know you're reading, I'll update!

Stay tuned for the next chapter:

Introducing Angela Christine-Vaughn Theriault.

"The Assignment!"

Total Vaughn Lover


	5. Introducing Angela ChristineVaughn Theri...

A/N: Thanks for the all you reviewed! Seriously, you guys are so awesome! Thanks, And here you go…another chapter. And as I am going to put three of my fics on hiatus, I should be updating a lot more sooner in the future! So here ya go…

When L'il Sis Knows Best

Total Vartan Lover

Part V

Introducing Angela Christine-Vaughn Theriault 2

"The Assignment"

Angela trailed closely behind Agent Atkins and observed him as he hollered update to fellow agents and supervisors as he guided her down a few narrow hallways.

She had to admit, it was exciting to see him in "Agent," action and she realized she could see herself being him saying, "Yes sir, I'll get right on that," and "Hey Jim, did you get me the documents I requested from Baghdad?"

And in a few days, she would be.

Agent Atkins finally came to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door with his name on it. "This is it," he chuckled then opened the door with the crook of his arm as his hands were full. "Come on in. Sorry if it's a little messy, I didn't expect to be bringing anyone here right now."

Angela laughed dismissively as she cautiously entered the room and then just stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Lots of certificates decorated the young agent's office and picture frames lined the edges of his wooden desk, filled with images of a young girl. She looked about three or our. She wondered if the sweet little thing was his daughter. And then she found herself contemplating if he also had a wife?

That thought had never occurred to her till that moment? But then what did it matter? She thought. It wasn't like she wanted to date him…did she?

"Agent Theriault, please go ahead and have a seat," Kenneth cajoled her, now settled his chair behind his large desk. "And if you can close the door, that'd be appreciated too."

Angela came back to the real world and did both without hesitation and then took her own seat, looking expectantly at the agent, her hands resting above the slim briefcase on her lap.

"So, Ms. Theriault," Atkins began, smiling in a manner that elicited nerves to shiver as it happened whenever a dentist greeted you before the exam. "Now, before we start here, I've been wondering, is it just Theriault or is it Vaughn-Theriault?"

Angela was a little bit shocked by the question and didn't bother hiding it as she replied. "It's Theriault…Vaughn is…I don't know. I guess my second middle name," she replied, looking like she could careless. In fact she did, she'd never given it thought. She'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was where many people dreamed to be. She was certainly not going to complain about the name so she certainly didn't think Agent Atkins should either. "Why are you asking Agent Atkins?" she inquired in a subtly interested way. She didn't want her instructor to know she had had her eye on him as much as the other snobby agent had.

"Oh, to make conversation," was what she expected Agent Atkins to saying, blushing while he did if she was lucky.

But that wasn't what happened.

He actually became serious and Angela wondered if he knew something about her name that she didn't. He couldn't possibly be implying that he believed she was trying to pull some thing on the day her life was supposed to change, could he?

Common sense told her no, he would have been in BIG trouble if he'd graduated her, while having that instinct. And besides, if she was trying to pull something, as thorough as the agency was, she'd never been admitted into the farm.

So why was he being so serious? What was it that her parents were hiding from her?

"Oh…it's to make conversation, obviously. This silence is making me feel extremely awkward," Atkins admitted with a hint of a chuckle but then when he leaned forward, Angela noticed there was something different about his eyes.

They seemed to be filled with awe and respect.

"It's just that there's this one agent I've idolized…actually, two agents," Atkins began, trying to stir curiousity in Ms. Theriault but it didn't work very well. She was obviously still upset about his "unintended," prank. "It's really remarkable, really. There's this two Agent Vaughn team, a father and a son and…they're legendary, at least in my book. And anyone will tell you they've both had very respectable careers in the CIA."

Angela found herself listening as he went on, intrigued at the respect between the father and son. And how the son had pursued a career in the CIA after his father had died in action to uphold the Vaughn name in the CIA. And it was sounding more and more like the son had succeeded.

"Well Agent Atkins, that is a really great story but what does that have to do with me?" Angela inquired a bit impatiently. "Other than the fact we both have "Vaughn" in our names?" she added to herself.

"Well as you know, I obviously entered the farm a lot later than Senior Officer Vaughn and I remember the first day of instruction, my instructor told me about this Agent Michael Vaughn who'd forgotten his book the first day. He made himself two names while he was here, "Boy Scout," for their motto, "Always be prepared," and "Golden Boy," for swiftly being able to pick up his training, as you did," Atkins went on. Theriault sat there, assuming that soon the reason for this explanation was going to become evident. "After I graduated, I asked my instructor about that Agent Vaughn and you know if he dropped out or something and you know what he told me? Look it up for myself. And…"

"You did?" Angela guessed, honestly trying hard not to sound sarcastic. Honestly.

"Damn right I did and…I was seriously amazed by what he's done. If I were in the field, I'd want to be as he was."

Great, so this wasn't about her. She was learning about Kenneth's reason for sticking around the CIA. It was inspirational, she'd give him that but that was about it.

"So, is this your announcement that you're trying out on me before you go to your boss that you no longer want to be an instructor?" she teased, leaning back in her chair.

"No," Kenneth said, sounding more serious. And this got Angela's attention. "When I wasn't in the vault or standing in front of the classroom set, I actually work and recently I've been filing away reports submitted by the superiors on their agents and…it just seems so odd to be that not only did I receive a copy of Agent Vaughn's on the night you came in but then a duplicate every third week for the duration of your training here," he revealed as though this was as bewildering as the pyramids in Egypt or planes disappearing in the Bermuda Triangle. "It's as if the CIA is trying to tell us something."

Angela caught herself staring at him and embarrassingly looked away. "What are you getting at Agent Atkins because I have forty-eight hours before I'm out and today is my birthday and I've got a Birthday party i…"

"Since day one, I've been curious. But I didn't think it'd be appropriate to ask as that would cause you more attention and the whole class had already assumed that I wanted to get you in bed since day one so that could only get us in trouble…but now…you're leaving and…I need to know…"

Kenneth's expression looked as apologetic as the time when a doctor had asked her at vulnerable sixteen to pull her clothes of so he could perform a gyno exam.

"What?" Angela demanded, getting a bit skittish. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful in anyway but, I hate it when people beat around the bush…my family always did it to get me to actually be present at these stupid galas they always hold."

Kenneth looked mildly offended and extremely surprised at the lip his most accomplished and calm agent was giving him.

"Well, what I'm trying to ask is…not easy. It might surprise you which is exactly why I didn't' want to come out and blurt it out," Kenneth implicated with a shrug of his toned shoulders. "But it wouldn't matter now if I've offended you already now would it?"

Angela was now the surprised one but she was doing her best not to show that his sudden rise in tone bothered her just a little. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't."

Kenneth seemed once again surprised. That had apparently not been the response he'd been expecting to hear from her. "Okay…then I'm just going to ask it,…your parents, they never clarified for you why your name is Vaughn-Theriault, right?"

"Or Christine-Vaughn, but then again, I never asked for it either…so I suppose I could get an explanation," Angela suggested, a little more than irritated at his hinting. She did however wish she sounded more sure of herself.

"Yeah, you can do that but…seriously Agent Theriault," Kenneth demanded in a serious tone. "Have you ever considered that maybe…maybe you were…adopted?"

There…it was out.

And Angela was looking at him incredulously and angrily. Very angrily.

"EXCUSE ME? ADOPTED!"

"Um…that wasn't supposed to offend you that much," Kenneth murmured which earned him Angela Christine-Vaughn Theriault getting in his face.

"And why not?"

"Hey. I'm not that off course. I mean…I'm sure everyone that's met you has told you that you're not like either of your extremely tall and snobby blond sisters," Kenneth pointed out but immediately realized that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Wait a second…what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, Angela," Kenneth stammered, confused as to why she would get so hot-headed over this situation.

"Oh yes you are, don't bother denying it!" she commanded, getting very purple in the face. "You are so amazed and so in disbelief at my making it because I am a heiress because you think Heiresses are just all like the Hilton sisters, extremely beautiful and that's it! And because obviously this is not a usual career move for someone from my background, you are immediately creating this equation that I must be adopted because I actually care about education, hard work and making a difference in the world while my sisters have a reputation for finding Mr. Right and then partying to find Mr. Right…you and every other closed-minded male I know."

Angela became very quiet at the end of that thought and then she sat down, and Kenneth noticed she was taking deep breaths. Gawd, he hadn't meant to offend her like that.

"You're right, until I met you, I don't think I'd ever thought that someone as beautiful and wealthy as you would want to work…I mean, no one wants to work Angela, we all middle class do because we have to…to make a living," Kenneth tried in calmer agent tone. "But you've got to admit it to yourself, you were definitely not cut from the same mold as your sisters…actually from the rest of your family for that matter."

Angela was no longer shooting death glares at him but the damage had been done. Kenneth had no interest in pursuing that conversation any longer. "So…my bad attempt at trying to make conversation, I won't do it again." He instead reached into one of his drawers and pulled out a sleek black CIA folder…this time it was for her. He placed it on the desk, checked the contents with a serious eye and then slid it to her with not so much as a grin.

Angela didn't know why it bothered her but she was afraid she'd hurt him. And the tension was more than she could bear. Not that she would let him know that. She took the folder and looked into it.

"Now, besides that whole you're the only smart "in-girl," that I know, you know that we have all…all of us here who have had the pleasure of training you know just how gifted you are. I mean your improv was excellent, you have definitely built muscle tone while you've been here. In our last session, I literally had to defend myself against you. And then of course, because of your training to sing classically, you had no problem perfecting the accents for the romantic languages as well as the Asian ones. You were definitely born to be a spy."

"Thank you, Agent Atkins," she commented and smiled at him, not that she got one back.

"And of course," Atkins continued as though Angela hadn't spoken, "your life in the CIA has yet to begin and though you've proved your potential here, only being in the actual field will allow you to prove just what an asset you are going to be to the Central Intelligence Agency. Which is exactly why we're sending you to the Joint Task Force in California."

Angela looked up at Atkins and her jaw dropped before she could catch it. For some reason, she wasn't as elated to being away from home as she thought she would be. And call her spoiled, but if they were going to send her away from her parents she'd have wanted to join one of the offices in Europe somewhere. At least then when she got any time off she could be shopping on the Champs Elysees, or perhaps breathing in the spirit and time filled air of the Colosseum where many brave gladiators had fallen.

California just seemed so close to home that if she were going to be there, she might as well just not go anywhere and stay in the Washington D.C office.

"You don't seem very excited Agent Theriault," Kenneth chided her, looking a bit disappointed. His expression told her that he had actually had to work to get her this assignment. "It's in Los Angeles, CA. It shouldn't be too far from home, I bet you will never admit it but you are buddy buddy with all the A-listers in Hollywood," he teased, lessening the tension just a tiny bit. "In fact, I bet your family has a mansion that'll be like at the max…twenty minutes from the office. How convenient is that going to be?"

Yeah, if she'd wanted that, she would have just flown there to glow at the Vogue party and the red carpet for the Academy Awards pre show and after as her sisters lived to do every chance they got.

"I'm twenty-seven today so I'm definitely trying to get out on my own," Angela declared, tapping her fingers on the precious documents. "So even if there was a mansion, I wouldn't be staying there. I'll be making money and find a little place to rent…somewhere I can call home for the first time. Seriously, I feel like I've been living in a museum all my life, with photographers at our house every other week shooting my parents in their offices or signing a new deal…whatever it is that they do."

Kenneth wanted to chuckle but something stopped him. Every moment that he sat here, he realized just how un-heiress like she was and he found that to be amazingly sexy.

But at the same time, he realized just how unaccustomed she seemed to the glitzy world that had been her whole life. "So California feels too like home, is that why you're not that excited?"

"You know me too well, Agent Atkins," Angela nodded as she crossed her heels underneath her chair. "That and I guess…as an international spy, I guess I thought I should be expecting to pack up my bags and be ready to leave the country…unless you were going to let me stay in Washington."

Kenneth couldn't say he disagreed. That had been the reason why he'd joined the Marines, to get away from everything he knew…but after realizing how often it was that his ship would take him from the mainland, he hadn't had one complaint when they'd assigned him to an office in Texas as his first CIA assignment.

"You know as much as I would love to do that I can't," Kenneth frowned, looking quite forlorn at giving these news.

"And exactly why is that Agent Atkins?" Angela put in, folding her arms. She thought she knew but she wanted to hear it from him. Not that she would ever let anything happen but who didn't think it was fun to know he felt that way anyway?

"The instructors won't stop teasing me for one," Kenneth ticked of on the fingers of one hand. "And after they tire of that the guys will probably try to shoot me for thinking I'd have a chance with you."

Angela couldn't hide how pleased she saw at how easily that had rolled of his tongue. It showed her how confident he was revealed a little bit how strongly he felt about her that he did have things in perspective and wasn't about to complicate their careers.

"Well, I certainly do appreciate the honesty," she replied, thinking that she wanted to add, "I guess."

"The other reason though is probably the number one reason and that is just simply, if you stay here I'm only going hold you back," Kenneth added, again a bit sadder to have to admit that.

But trust Angela to make him feel better, or at least try to.

"Kenneth," she protested, using his name as she thought she had to direct this comment to Kenneth, the human being. "You taught me everything I know. Without you, I wouldn't even be having this conversation with you right now." She felt he needed to hear just how grateful she was for what he'd done. He'd been the first one to respect her for her skills and abilities and didn't just take her for face value.

"Exactly. I taught you everything I know, Theriault," Atkins stated with an easy chuckle. "Really, you wiped me out. If they had decided to delay graduation, you would have had to teach the last class. Which again is the reason why Langley has practically ordered me to send you to L.A to be supervised by one of the best agents in the business right now, Agent Sydney Bristow. I've left brief biographical packet in there so you'll know what high expectation we're expecting by having you continue your training with her. If the Vaughn story didn't impress you…the Bristow story will."

Angela curiously opened her folder and searched for the packet. On the front was a profile of the very professsion-expressioned female agent. Oh, she hoped this wasn't going to turn out be some kin of boot camp.

"I know she seems to be some agent who buries herself in her work or something and believe me, she does. But I'm sure when you two meet up, you're going to be pleasantly surprised at how similar you two are and how easily you're going to adapt to working with her," Kenneth assured Angela since noticing her amount of nervousness had risen. "In fact, Angela, since I first saw you in "action," you immediately reminded me of Sydney."

"…fine, thank you," Angela cut in and got to her feet. Kenneth also got to his feet. He knew this was the last time he was going to be able to be in the same room as her an he wasn't about to let her go like this. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to upset her but something obviously had broken inside of her.

"Wait, what do you mean by "fine, thank you?" You haven't reviewed with me your departure or you…"

"I'm sorry Kenneth but I need to get out of here. A girl can only take so much praise," Angela murmured and then her voice cracked before she could catch it from happening. "And besides, there's an itinerary in there right? You say I'm so skilled so I'm sure I can remember code names, key codes and protocol to meet the right people…I believe we're done."

Gawd, she sobbed to herself. Where were these tears coming from? Wasn't she happy? Shouldn't she be excited to leave so she can celebrate her last Birthday as a family till show knows when?

So why was she so afraid to leave the room? Why did it affect her so much to think she wasn't going to be able to see her excellent instructor again?

Suddenly her heart was lifted by a friendly squeeze on her shoulder from the hand Kenneth had used to lay down the law several times during class.

"Agent Theriault, I am going to miss you to. You were like a daughter to me, but now, you've just become a good friend," Kenneth whispered as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder in a way not sanctioned by the CIA. "Make me proud, Angela. I know you can. You have what it takes to outdo my inspiration and your new supervisor. You just need to want it bad enough, and I think you do."

Angela only nodded. She was surprise that Kenneth was still talking. If she said another word, she was afraid she'd start bawling. Of course she'd never considered the adoption and that was an absurd idea but on all other aspects of her life during the life-changing preparation, Atkins had been her backbone, her motivator. In fact, not seeing eye to eye would have been unheard of.

"Angie, before you leave…is a Birthday hug out of the question?"

In normal circumstances and if she was in the right mind set she would have objected but she found herself turning around and squeezed him tighter than he probably expected. She heard him whisper, "hey, you have to be aware of your grip, sweetheart. Remember you now know how to choke someone."

"You now you're enjoying this," she argued as she placed a kiss on his cheek then let him go just as one of Agent Atkins' colleagues passed by the see through wall. "Close one," she giggled nervously.

"Yeah, but totally worth it," he sighed in a husky voice. "Happy Birthday, Angela. You enjoy the next forty-eight hours, you're going to wish you did when they start putting you on call."

"I will, thanks," she told him as she collected her coat and stuffed her folder into her bag.

"And one more thing."

Angela paused right in the door way and watched as Agent Atkins dug through his wallet then she took the card he extended to her. It was a business card. She didn't know agents were allowed to have those. "You don't have to do anything with it. You can toss it when you leave the building, just make sure you don't let me know," he pleaded in a playful manner. "But really, if you wanted to, when you get a network e-mail address, please feel free to contact me. Then you can give me something to tell the new generation of agents when I use you as a role model in my next classes."

Angela hoped he was joking but, " I promise," she replied instead and flashed him the biggest brightest smile she could leave him with. "Good bye, Agent Atkins."

Kenneth watched her leave with a heavy heart and then closed his eyes as the door closed. The sound was a little starling but it brought a perfect ending to this recent episode of puppy love and he felt it couldn't have ended any better.

"Good luck," he told himself as he settled back into his leather chair to get back to doing his actual "agent," duties. "Not that you need it."

So one more chapter of Angela to go before she meets her brother Vaughn…which by now you know since she's going to be Bristow's apprentice! Hey, hope you're enjoying this! And since I'm putting at least two of my fics on hiatus, I am planning to be able to update this a lot sooner so please keep reading! I appreciate all your patience!

Till next time

Total Vartan Lover.


	6. When the one you love is a world away

A/N: Hello fans of Alias! I know, you all are getting tired of reading my apology but I AM SO SORRY! I will seriously work on updating sooner now that I have the time to do it again. Course, I'll be going to Japan for two months in a little bit but I'll still have the time to work on this so hopefully I'll be able to post sooner! For those of you who've been so loyal through my many hiatuses, you have no idea how much I appreciate it.

So ALIAS IS OVER. I know Jenn is probably happy because that means she'll be able to spend time with her daughter Violet and her husband Ben (assuming he's not always at work, lol) but Michael Vartan…the man on the side who's stuck with Sydney through everything but partial of Season 3…I wonder what he's going to be doing next. Whatever it is, he better announce it soon because I'm already missing ya!

And if you didn't notice already, I wrote this fic because I think Mr. Awesome and Handsome Vartan should have a story line. (I know he did have one in season 5 but I don't want Alias to end, and besides, this is my spin on it.) Okay, enough rambling, and on with the show!

When L'il Sis Knows Best Total Vartan Lover

Part VI

"When the one you love is a world away…"

_**JTF CIA HQ - Los Angeles, CA**_

_**4:30 p.m.**_

Agent Vaughn put down his lukewarm cup of coffee and sat forward in his seat. He pulled back the wrist of his suit jacket and read the digital numbers on his watch.

4:30. Good. Perfect time to check in and see how his partner was doing in the field. This time, in a cave within a group of unnamed hills in his country of origin, France.

He pulled on his headphones and pressed a button to allow communication "This is Base Ops, report your status Freelancer."

There was some heavy static. Of course the CIA utilized the best technology to ensure the efficiency of their equipment under any circumstance but this unidentified terrain had proven communication to be difficult. Still Vaughn sat still, waiting anxiously for any sound of Agent Bristow's voice to come through. He stole a look around him. Dixon, Jack Bristow, and his best friend, Weiss were not around at the moment.

_Hmm…this was a secure line. Maybe a personal touch to this conversation wouldn't hurt. _

"Syd?"

Another minute of crackling followed before Sydney came on the line. "Base Ops, this is Freelancer."

"Nice to have you back online, Freelancer," Vaughn sighed, not hiding how relieved he was. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sydney replied, sounding out of breath. "I had a minor fall a few feet back. Seems like I stumbled onto some kind of trap door Rambaldi set up so that the treasure hunters would think they fell into a trap when it seems the thing they would be looking for is here in the room."

"Good. So we're making progress," Vaughn confirmed, smiling as he typed a note about Bristow's fall into a word document he was using to take notes so that he wouldn't forget to put it into his report for Langley later. "It sure would be nice if we successfully completed this mission. We'd be ahead of Mr. Sark for once."

He heard Sydney chuckle and the familiar sound almost made him forget how far away from him she really was. Thank god for new-age techies! "So, how is my position looking to you right now, Boy Scout?"

Vaughn minimized his notes and looked instead at a window that displayed the digital footage of her a very-high tech satellite was feeding back to the Command Center. "Beautiful and clear," Vaughn replied in a smooth tone. "No bad guys on the perimeter."

"Okay, I've come up on the Seal of Rambaldi. It looks like it's a part of a block in the wall," Sydney radioed back while Vaughn confirmed it himself with the feed on the computer.

Vaughn pulled out a black folder and removed from it a fax copy of the parchment pertaining to the mission. "That looks exactly like the seal described on page 65," he agreed with her. "According to the legend, behind the slab of iris lies the "eye of Rambaldi." Marshall believes this "eye" is supposed to be a new type of surveillance technology. Compact. He compares it to the mythical item, a crystal ball."

"The kind that kids believe Santa Claus uses? Well, Milo Rambaldi has surprised us before," Sydney reminded him in an annoyed kind of voice. "I'm going in but I'm going to need both hands to crack this thing. I'll be unarmed."

"You're safe, Sydney," he assured her as his thoughts went back to the memory of watching over her meeting with the cunning and clever K-Directorate operative, Anna Espinosa a few years back. "Your guarding angel is on duty. Be careful, Syd."

A moment of silence followed and it was an awkward silence. For Sydney. Vaughn picked up the paper cup of the caffeine-filled beverage, tossed the contents into his mouth and smashed it in his fist before throwing it away.

Twenty-four hours ago, Jack had received a call from Sydney, indicating that she felt she was being followed by possible Covenant spies and that she had left the country to shake them off. She'd called in now that she felt she'd been successful in doing just that.

That's what he'd learned from Jack.

Vaughn wasn't buying the scenario but he'd decided he was going to push her to tell him. Sydney had survived through a lot the past three years. She'd shown she was a lot smarter and stronger than he was. Vaughn remembered how he'd almost taken his own life just six months after the CIA had found evidence that Sydney was never coming back. He wished Sydney would rely on him more but he knew she could take care of herself. Which was why he'd accepted the responsibility to serve as Base Ops for the current operation: to recover another of Rambaldi's quirky inventions. But other than the occasional mention of, "Syd," he was keeping it painfully professional."

"Vaughn?"

Vaughn immediately sat up and clicked on his headphones. Her voice had sounded hurt and strained, ever a little worried. All red flags that she'd possibly been injured. "Yeah, Syd. What's going on? Are you all right?"

Silence…again?

"Sydney?" Vaughn tried again in a more gentle tone. For some reason he felt that it wasn't pain she was feeling. It was fear. "Syd, are you okay?"

"V…Vaughn, are you alone?" she asked then, followed by some scraping or chiseling she was doing to pry away the slab of rock. "I'm figuring you are because nobody else is saying anything," she pointed out. "I also don't think you'd call yourself a guardian angel with Weiss as a witness."

Very clever. "I'm alone," he stated simply. "And this line is secure but you already know that." He pictured Sydney wince at the curtness of his tone. Good. She deserved to feel some of the repercussions of making him worry with her disappearing act. "Did you want to make small talk while you chisel away at that piece of concrete?"

The sound of rock breaking ceased and a tired sigh came over the frequency. "You're upset. I thought you would be."

Upset? She'd thought right.

"W…we haven't talked about…well, why I left you three nights ago…at the scene of Lauren Reed's…capture," she pointed out delicately. She couldn't bring herself to say "murder."

"No, we haven't," Vaughn agreed as he leaned back in his seat. He closed his eyes. He found himself almost hurling at the mention of his ex-wife's name. He'd actually done so the last time he'd laid eyes on her, very late that same evening to identify her before her body had been shoved into it's eternal resting place, the CIA morgue for the dead bodies of members of dangerous organizations.

"Well…is there a reason why you haven't asked?" she murmured, sounding more hurt, especially since he didn't sound like he was merely interested. "Don't you want to know? If you didn't care, why would you be so upset?"

_Because you would tell me the lie you told your father._

"I didn't feel I had to," Vaughn replied matter-of-factly. "After your father received your call, he told me what I felt I needed to know. So…I know what I need to know." Vaughn paused and let her drink that in. She was smart, she'd get what he was trying to say.

After another tired breath and more lack of scraping, Sydney sighed. "You didn't guy it, did you?" He imagined she was biting her lip.

"No, Syd. I didn't," Vaughn replied in the same sharp tone. "But just so know, I'm not going to force you tell me what you don't want to tell me and I've decided I'm not even going to assume what happened."

"Uh….thanks," Sydney replied but she sounded uncomfortable and Vaughn knew it. This was certainly not her style in a professional setting but if she was hoping for a repeat of Vaughn showing up on her doorstep, asking her if he could use her shower, she needed to straighten this out. "Vaughn…I'm sorry. It doesn't seem like a big deal to me but you deserve the truth."

"I'm listening, but be quick. Your father and Weiss are on their way back," Vaughn warned her, more harshly than he'd intended. His eyes were on the group of three: Jack, Weiss and Dixon had been replaced by an agent he didn't recognize.

"It's really stupid but I wanted to get away for a few days," Sydney explained as she continued to carve away. "I was just tired of the whole Covenant situation. And….your wife, she shouted off some random numbers and the name of a city so i…I may have made a pit stop in Switzerland. Vaughn before you say anything I found nothing…."

"I had some hard things to take care of these last few days," Vaughn complained but he lowered his voice to a whisper. He didn't want to be overheard having a personal conversation by her father. First there was Lauren's dead and then deciding what to do with the house…and there was that letter from his dead…learning his sister was alive. "There's been…a lot. I really could have used your company, even if it was just in a best friend capacity."

"I know Vaughn and I'm really sorry," Sydney murmured as she tried to budge the rock with her bare hands. "I shouldn't have left you to take care of her by yourself. After all you wouldn't have had to come if I hadn't tried to take matters into my own hands again. You risked your career and Weiss, coming to save my life. Not to mention you were still recovering from the bullet wound."

Vaughn heard genuine remorse in Sydney's apology. And after receiving her words of appreciation for what they'd done that night, he couldn't stop from grinning. "It's okay, Syd. I'm obviously healing if I'm at work. Taking care of Lauren's remains was not a hassle since the CIA took responsibility for it. And I had some good friend that helped me decided where to go from here, keep me from selling my house until I knew what I wanted to do next. Stuff like that," he informed her as he watched her on the screen. Looked to him like she had made a lot of progress in the last ten minutes. "Just promise me one thing Agent Bristow. Don't lie to me. If you needed to take time away because you couldn't handle me and how I would be post my wife's death, all you had to do was tell me. I would have completely understood. Just…don't lie to me. I would never lie to you."

"I…I guess you're right," she said, sounding a bit lighter. All thanks to Vaughn's mushy words.

"I am right. Remember, next time before you decide to just disappear, talk to me. If you had, we could have taken a vacation together." Heaven knew he needed one. "So, you are heading back to the U.S after this mission, yes?"

"Yeah," she promised. "And I'll make sure to talk to you if I decide to change my plans."

"Sounds good," Vaughn replied back with a relieved grin. But he found he had to wipe his smile off his face when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. "Freelancer, the team is back and it looks like they're here to tell me something. I'll be back in a sec."

"Don't fret," he added confidently. "I'll still have my ear piece in and I've set the system to beep if anybody shows up within 1000 feet of you."

"I don't fret," Sydney shot back, indignantly. "Go talk, I need to hack into this some more but it shouldn't be long before we gain our first look at this thing."

"That's what you said five minutes ago. Looks like Rambaldi has his work cut out for you," Vaughn radioed back. "he then pushed a button behind his ear piece to lower the volume of the feedback and stood up to meet Jack, Weiss and the other agent he didn't know. "Freelancer is making excellent progress. We should have the "Eye of Rambaldi" in a matter of minutes. No other parties seem to be present."

"Good," Jack nodded then gestured to the unnamed agent. "Agent Vaughn, this is Agent Seaver from Personnel. He's the one responsible for recruitment of FARM graduates for our office."

Already that time again, huh? "Nice to meet you Agent Seaver," he smiled but the mention of the FARM brought up what had recently become one of his more frightening thoughts. That letter, his father's assumption that not only he, his son but his daughter…his sister would become involved with the CIA. What if his sister had just graduated into this world? His little sister couldn't possibly know what she was getting herself into. "I'm sorry to interrupt but this really isn't a good time. I'm monitoring a…"

"Actually Vaughn, you are the one who has business with this man," Jack cut in briskly and then held out his hand. Vaughn stared blankly at his girlfriend's father. "Your headset, Agent Vaughn. As you need to leave, Weiss will be taking over supervision of this mission."

Vaughn didn't mean to but the look he gave Agent Seaver could only be classified as a glare. Then he turned back to Jack with the same expression. "Permission to ask what the new recruits have to do with me?" _"Please don't tell me I'm baby-sitting. Please tell me I can stay in the field….near Sydney."_ "Am I being demoted?"

Jack's facial expression told Vaughn that that was exactly what he wanted to tell him but his words were different. "No, Officer Vaughn, you're not being demoted. As this JTF is very big and one of the most sophisticated in the US, the agents we recruit are agents that have already had experience in the field. It's very rare that we get a recruit directly from the graduating class. But according to the best trainer we have working there now, he just handed a badge to an agent he believes can be the next Sydney Bristow," he explained, " and that agent is arriving here on Friday to start well…gaining experience."

"So Sydney is getting the agent." _"To baby-sit, ha!" _Vaughn clarified. "Where do I come in?"

"Well my daughter is on French soil and as she is taking a commercial flight to get back, she is not going to be home till Friday evening. We'll know how late when she tells us what flight," Jack reminded Vaughn, shaking his head. He obviously hadn't agreed to his daughter's disappearance antics either. "The new recruit comes in Friday morning, two days from now. I've already spoken to Director Dixon and it's been settled. You will be meeting our new agent and making sure there is now problem in her processing."

Not a demotion? He _was_ baby-sitting and it wasn't even his agent! "I'm guessing I don't have a say in this?" Vaughn inquired as delicately as he could muster.

Jack didn't have to say, "no." His smile said it all. "Go with Agent Seaver. He will give you the information we have on this phenomenon and provide you with your itinerary for Friday." Vaughn's face was reluctant but he nodded. "Agent Vaughn, don't worry. You'll be back in the field in no time. Dixon probably chose you because you're still recuperating from that bullet wound and wants you to take it easy for a while."

Vaughn smiled at Jack's concern even though his gut told him it was an act. Jack Bristow had the best poker face out of everyone he knew. For all Vaughn knew, Jack had engineered this, recommending he take on a training role to keep him away from his daughter. Vaughn planned on doing a good job but he could just see Jack twisting the story and recommending him for a longer stretch as a trainer. Just to get back at him for marrying that Covenant mole, causing a lot of grief for him daughter and probably a few white hairs for him.

"Right," Vaughn drawled then looked over at Weiss who'd already settled down in his chair. "Weiss…"

"Don't worry. I'll tell Freelancer that you were called away and I'll make sure that she knows you told her to be careful," Weiss interrupted, winking at him in that knowing way.

"Thanks Weiss," Vaughn whispered back and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later." He then turned to the agent from Personnel who was looking a little scared despite how patiently he'd been waiting.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Seaver," Vaughn rebuked and flashed him a disarming smile to ease his colleague's nerves. "Shall we get on with this?"

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

_**Somewhere above Sydney in Unidentified Hills-France**_

_**4:45 p.m.(Pacific-standard) **_

There was another pair of eyes focused on Sydney Bristow's position that evening.

A pair of eyes that belonged to Julian Sark and his team of men from what was left of the formerly powerful group, the Covenant.

The twenty-five year old blond stood behind two of his men who were running monitoring that were connected to the bug they'd buried in the ceiling of the secret room Sydney had stumbled into.

_Nope, sorry Agent Vaughn. You are actually one step behind me. And I will make sure you stay there. _

"How we doing men?" Sark barked at them with his muscled arms folded. His piercing blue eyes were focused like vultures, calculating, aiming for the kill.

"Bristow has almost broken the fake seal," one of the men reported back and pointed out her position to the boss. "She'll have entry to the decoy artifact in less than five minutes."

Hmmm…Bristow had entered the room about fifteen minutes ago and she was still not in? Sark smile, slowed down a bit didn't she? Maybe due to the personal conversation she'd been having with her boyfriend Vaughn? Sark couldn't believe someone as attractive and intelligent as Sydney would return to the scumbag after he'd married himself to someone else but hey, there probably wasn't a lot of fish in the sea when you worked in the world of armed terrorists and international espionage. "That's fine," Sark plodded with a tight frown on his otherwise angelic face. "Keep your eyes on her. We will teach her what it means to kill an important member of the Covenant."

_A death wish._

When Sark had been told by his team of science geeks that the technology the real "Eye of Rambaldi" provided had the capability to break into the frequency of even the highest secure lines of the CIA, he hadn't believed it.

He also hadn't planning on hearing a personal conversation between Sydney and Vaughn by implementing it. As secure as they may have believed it to be, it seemed to Sark like professional suicide to resolve a personal argument during an operation. But their foolishness had its' unpleasant pay offs.

_Lauren was dead and the CIA had confiscated their operative's remains. _

Sark had known of the rumor that had started to travel since last evening when they'd learned Derevko's sister had been compromised, but he hadn't believed it. Agent Reed had successfully infiltrated Vaughn's life only months after learning of his girlfriend's likely demise. A few months passed and she'd become Mrs. Vaughn, a feat no one had expected her to be able to achieve, but she'd continued to surprise them. There seemed nothing she couldn't do….except get out of last evening's assignment alive. Sexy, smart and clever, yes but sadly, not clever or smart enough. Vaughn had proven his worth and Sark was impressed. He still wondered when straight all-USA man Vaughn had discovered his wife was a con-artist.

Sark closed his eyes and held a personal moment of silence for the beautiful blond who'd fulfilled every bed-side fantasy he'd ever had, including that of his being with Sydney.

Lauren's death had been a tragic accident.

Sark's eyes flashed open hungrily, his tight frown curling into a painful-looking smile. Lauren had been an unnecessary sacrifice. He was going to make sure the CIA paid.

He reached into the pocket of his nicely ironed black slacks and retrieved from it the designator attached to the fake Rambaldi artifact he'd placed there as bait. An intricately designed bomb. The CIA would get his message loud and clear when they found the remains of their best agent splattered again the inside of the cavern walls.

"Boss," an annoyed voice addressed Sark in a thick German accent, then was followed by an irritating tap on the shoulder.

Sark reached into his other pocket to retrieve his handgun then pointed it at the German with the safety off. "You are former Nazi so you should understand quite clearly when I say that I don't like the disrespectful tone of your voice."

"My apologies Mr. Sark," the German huffed, not at all fazed by the metal barrel sitting against his chest. "But as annoying as it is to all of us, I know what you would do to us if we didn't tell you about his phone call."

Sark almost dropped his gun. Phone call? They were bothering him during an operation because of a phone call? Had Germans not heard of, "Can I take a message?" He grumbled and stared fixedly at this pawn, tapping the gun against his chest as he said, "this better be good. Who is it?"

"It's an incoming call on cell phone number three," the German informed him as he held the specific phone out to him. "Your personal line and there's only one person that contacts you on this number."

Sark looked at the name displayed on the caller, I.D

_Angie: Your girlfriend _

He felt his fact relax as he realized who was on the line. It wasn't the Angela that worked as a major arms dealer of the Angela that worked for the Covenant as a translator. No, this was a very special Angela.

This was Angela Theriault, debutante. One of the three gorgeous daughters of millionaire-tycoon Jackson Theriault, and yes, his girlfriend. Lauren had been a great distraction in the time he'd known her but at points she'd become totally Vaughn's wife and it sickened him. And besides, it wasn't not normal for a mob boss to have more than one woman. Sark raised his head to see that every man in the room was either grinning or throwing disgusted looks his way. "Right. Thank you," Sark muttered. "I'm going to take this in the back. Let me know when she's got the decoy in her hand. We can designate it as long as she's holding it. I prefer that we not be in the same area when it happens. Quakes make me uncomfortable."

"Consider it done, Mr. Sark," the German sang, grinning in a most defiant way.

Sark pulled himself away from the sound of men gossiping and the sound of stone breaking before he pressed the button to answer the call. "Thank you for holding. This is Julian Sterling of International Business Services."

"Sorry Julian, were you in a meeting?" the soft female voice chittered. "It's me, Angela, but if you're busy right now…I can call you later."

_Yeah, it was a bad time. _"Not at all, Angie. I am in a meeting but think nothing of it," he assured her as heat creeped up into his cheeks. "We haven't talked in days. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make me make the first call…again." He imagined Angela blushing at the comment. Even since he'd met her by chance after a meeting that had gone south in Rome a few months back, they'd become inseparable. Not in the physical sense of course. He had been forced to make up a colorful truth that he was a businessman that dealt deeply in international relations to serve as an explanation for his frequent trips away from U.S soil and it had gone over very well. In fact Angela had told him she was also very busy in this lab or that, gaining experience as she worked to receive a Ph.D in Bio-Physics, Chemistry and Nuclear Technology. So the long distance part hadn't impacted their relationship in anyway.

"I am pleasantly surprised that you thought to interrupt my life for once instead of making me always doing it to you…but you rarely call me. You always wait till I'm back in town and we can talk in person." And that was correct. Sark had given her a line she could feel free to access 24/7 but in the few months since their "alliance," she'd called him only twice. Once when her favorite pet had gotten sick and then the other…when her favorite pet had died. She'd denied him his request for her to talk more openly with him about other mundane things. And the harder the boyfriend tried, the less calls she'd take from him. Sark tried not to be angry with her for being so secretive though. If she had picked up the phone to call him, it meant she was hurting. "Angela, are you all right?"

There was a slight pause. "Um yeah…everything is fine. I just…I don't know. I wanted to hear my boyfriend's voice, I guess."

Sark knew the "everything is fine," part was a lie but he would endure it. Angela obviously needed him right now. "Well, I'm here. Where are you right now? You sound kind of uh…tired."

"I'm in the safety of my car. You?"

"Not anywhere that our conversation can be overheard," he promised as he glanced briefly over at his team. "Was there something in specific that you wanted to tell me?"

"No…I just felt like taking you up on your offer of listening to the little things," Angela sighed and he pictured her lying back, trying to get more comfortable in the seat of her flashy BMW.

When she'd told Sark of her dream to be a bio-chemist, dealing in nuclear experiments, his initial reason for keeping in contact with her was strictly in hopes of using her expertise. But then he'd found out that this girl was one of those rich girls. He couldn't figure her out. She was in a superb position in one of the richest families of the United States, she would inherit a lot of money if she hadn't already. She could have easily chosen not to work a day in her life like her two older and blond sisters. But now, she'd gone straight from high school into the prestigious Harvard University and had spent the last eight years studying to be a scientist. Her lack of fitting in and her ambition to take that further and do what she wanted no matter what society thought reminded him so much of himself. And that intrigue had grown to understanding, compassion and finally Sark could admit he was in love. "Finally come around to it, did ya?" he chuckled, very pleased. "So, would you like to tell your boyfriend how many guys hits on you so I know how many I have to kill when I get back?"

She laughed dismissvely. "Oh Julian, I don't have men chasing around me like my sisters do," she insisted modestly. _"My sisters also don't have a mysterious British rogue for a boyfriend either,"_ she thought contentedly. "Today was my graduation from the….University. I'm the proud holder of Ph.D in Bio- well…everything."

"Is that right? That was today?" Sark gasped, impressed. "Does that mean I should now refer to you as Dr. Theriault?" She giggled a "no." Sark then grew serious as he said, "you graduation. I missed it. I'm so sorry, I am a terrible boyfriend."

To his big immense surprise, Angela mentioned that it wasn't a big deal. In fact, no one from her family, not her parents, sisters or even the butler who sometimes serviced as a stand in had made an appearance. Did they disapprove of her that much that they wouldn't witness her graduating from the highest of Ivy League colleges? Sark didn't hide his shock or disgruntlement.

"It's okay, Julian. They've been against the idea since I got accepted," Angela put in. "Something about how I give all the other lazy debutantes a bad name. I didn't bother telling them about it anyway."

"No, it's not okay. The Ivy League would have advised them of the ceremony in one way or the other. I bet if you checked your family's mail and voice messages for the last month, they would be from Harvard. Your parents should have been there for your big day. I mean are they going to ignore it when you get a medical report to go down in history? Pathetic, I tell you!" Sark grumbled, closing and opening his fists tensely. "If I were on U.S soil, I would…"

"Sterling," Angela warned him. "Really, don't worry about that. I've got more exciting things going on." She'd said it in a way that hinted to him that he had left out something crucial to this conversation.

"Right, well, when we meet next time, we'll celebrate your graduation properly," Julian promised in a deep husky voice. "Do you still like that lobster joint where we've gone to a few times?"

"Yeah, I do but it's going to have to be a lobster joint in California," Angela informed him. "I already have a…lab that has decided they'd like me as part of their team. I leave for Los Angeles tomorrow which means an emotional goodbye for my sisters…maybe my parents." She wasn't sure how broken her parents would act when she told them she knew about being adopted.

"The day after grad and you already have a job lined up?" Sark repeated, looking even more impressed. Just what level of genius was he dating? "And what is the name of this research center? I may consider putting in a good work and fund projects or something."

"Like I'm going to tell you that," his girlfriend chuckled. "You don't tell me what you do so I would expect you to continue to give me the same respect, Mr. Sterling."

Julian wasn't known for taking "no," without causing trouble for the unfortunate idiot who'd said the "no." He didn't know why but he felt aroused every time she got all secretive on him. "All right, all eight. I'll off," Julian sighed. "You sure that you're not heading for life as an International spy and you can't tell me due to protocol?"

There was actually an awkward pause after that comment before clever Angela retorted with a, "I guess I could say the same about you."

Oh. Sark could feel himself grow hard and this was the worst situation to be in that predicament. And it was only that the German and the rest of his henchmen wouldn't let him live it down. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he failed to stay one step ahead of Bristow because of a girl, no matter how tantalizing she was.

"Better compartmentalize those feelings, we've got company," Sark told himself when he saw that German and one of the computer guys come within ten feet of him. "Angie, sweetie. Can you give your popular business man boyfriend a moment?"

"Uh sure," she murmured but Sark wasn't even listening anymore. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece then changed back into powerful Covenant player mode. "What have you got for me?"

"Bristow has the "Eye of Rambaldi" in possession," computer guy reported, looking excited. Sark cut him of literally by grabbing him by the neck to move him of the way then sat down at the empty computer.

"This is critical information, techie," Sark barked as she watched red dots move across a complicated grid. "This screen better not way you were too late unless you don't mind dying tonight."

"M…Mr…Sark…c…can't breathe," the techie mumbled in a raspy voice. Sark bit his lip and moved his hand from his technician's brachio-tubes. As soon as he regrouped, he explained to his boss that it would not be smart to blow the decoy for another 300 feet. "That is the minimal distance from us that you can initiate explosion and ensure that we don't' get any of the quake's rebound."

Sark now felt horrible about the way he'd treated his men. He was like a mob boss but he didn't have to eliminate his employees over stupid misunderstandings…at least not until he'd used them up or found someone better. "Good. Thank you. We're still going as planed."

"We sure are Mr. Sark," the German chimed in, wearing a smirk that told Sark he was going to add a comment that was not only unnecessary but inappropriate as well. "In fact boss, I'd estimate you have around five minutes before we'd need you to set it off. Why don't you take that time to wrap up that call with Ms. Theriault…unless you don't mind her hearing the sound of our most powerful small bomb going off."

Sark stared in alarm at his cell phone. After making sure there was no damage, he smiled evily at his German muscleman. "I'm going to overlook your little attitude today. You are very lucky that you caught me in a good mood," Sark chuckled but the German knew better than to argue. His boss' tone really meant, "we will take care of your insubordinance later."

"German" moved out of the way immediately to let Sark excuse himself_. "Smartest move he's made today,"_ Sark chuckled. _"Let's see if it's going to be his last." _He pushed a button to reenter the call then put it to his ear. He was greeted by Angela's hold music for a few seconds before he heard her. "Sorry, I didn't realize you came back on the line. I hope I didn't make you wait long."

"N…no, don't worry about it," Julian cut in, "it's mostly my fault anyway. Um…Angie…the reason I had to put you on hold was because well…I've been told I'm needed back in the meeting." He heard her sigh the way she always did when she expected it but didn't want to let her boyfriend leave. "Angela, I'm terribly sorry but if I want to keep my job, I need to go….now," Julian stated in a stern tone to get let his girlfriend know this wasn't a debate. "Look things here should be over in a matter of days. By the time I get back, you should be settled in your new place. I know you're going to be homesick in beginning but I will call you so we can do something….romantic, okay? Can you be a good heiress and wait for me to call you this time?"

"O…of course…and I'm twenty-seven, remember? Of course I can take care of myself and my emotions," she sniffed haughtily. "What made you think I'd be homesick?"

So maybe he'd taken it a tad too far referring to his girlfriend two years his senior as a "good heiress." "I didn't mean to offend you, Angela. It's just…you initially sounded sad when you called in and you didn't mention anything about Fido or whatever other pet you have so I guess I assumed."

"Julian, you can be really professional and focused sometimes and then at other times….so nurturing and kind," he heard her giggle. "Well, I've got packing and stuff to do so…I'll let you go."

"You are the best girlfriend and guy like myself can ask for," he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against the mouthpiece. He imagined her doing it at the exact same moment. "Have a good evening sweet heart…and a splendid birthday."

Angela's surprised gasp made him feel like he'd climbed up to cloud nine. Thank good ness for his palm pilot, the only way he could do his job and not lose touch with the other things that were close to his heart.

He wouldn't ever tell his hard-working crew but after how well that conversation had went, he might not kill anybody if that Sydney got out of the cavern alive.

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_**Theriault Manor- Philadelphia, PA**_

_**8:00 p.m. (Eastern)**_

"Thanks Julian," Angela smiled as she laid back in her leather seat. "Don't work to hard okay….bye."

Angela waited for the soft but heart-breaking click as her boyfriend hung up his phone before she signed and closed hers.

He'd remembered her birthday!

No wonder conversational Angela had lost all train of thought. She remembered telling her sisters not to make a fuss over her birthday while on the phone with Julian a few weeks back but she'd never directly told him anything. She couldn't help but smile.

She'd had to mull over the idea of calling her very busy and dedicated professional of a boyfriend before getting the guts to dial the numbers. It was a personal line but she also knew that it was business hours full time when he was in Europe. But today had been a big day. Bigger than expected and she'd needed a patient ear.

Julian had served that purpose well.

He'd even done something very uncharacteristic of him.

He'd apologized to her.

Her boyfriend always went on about how respected he was and the one thing he strove to retain was his ability to continually be right. Back at the beginning of their liaison, Julian had mentioned that the hardest thing for him to do was admit it when he was wrong. That had been his only concern on how he would keep the relationship from working out. But look at how well he was doing and she wasn't about to take all the credit. He'd obviously underestimated himself. He'd definitely proved to her that he could be honest and put down his pride when it came to someone he cared about. How lucky she was to be that girl! How lucky was that despite their frequent time apart that she had a perfect and honest relationship with her Julian. A boyfriend that was away so much that would not ask questions when she would have to do the same thing to him.

She shoved the cell phone into her purse when her wrist brushed against a leather object.

Her CIA-issued folder.

She slowly pulled out the huge black folder embossed with the CIA logo onto her lap and opened it. On one side was paperwork to make the entrance into the L.A task force painless as possible. And of course the letter her supervisor had written to her new boss, Agent Sydney Bristow. She felt a well of excitement. Who wouldn't? As of tomorrow, she would be Agent Theriault, federal officer.

Or would she be?

Her eyes slid to the manila folder she'd inserted on the right side of the folder.

_"I've been wondering is it just Theriault or Vaughn-Theriault?"_

_"Have you considered the possibility that you may have been adopted?"_

After her meeting with Agent Atkins, she's gone directly to the FARM's big research center to find anything and everything she could find on, "Vaughn." Of course that had turned up many entries but she felt she'd found what she'd been looking for when she'd found two names of a father and son, William C. Vaughn and an Agent Michael C. Vaughn. Most of what she'd found was classified but she did manage to find profiles of the two men. Angela didn't fail to notice that her middle name started with a C. All her life, she'd believed Vaughn had been part of her middle name, but now it seemed it could have been her real last name.

_If this bizarre situation is not a coincidence and instead the truth about my family….my real family: my father died in action and…I have a brother with the nickname, "Boy Scout."_

_As if_.

That had been her initial reaction, but who was she kidding? She'd just finished a long educative session on conspiracies and cover-ups. She had a spy brain now. She saw possibilities in situation that anybody else would believe were absurd.

Even when the impossible could apply to her.

She had tried to avoid it but she'd felt a connection to the men in the pictures. Especially, the one of Agent Michael Vaughn. She felt she'd seen him before, not sure if it was in real life or maybe one of her dreams.

Oh! What was she doing? Was she really sitting in her car talking to herself? At this rate she'd talk herself in circles until she convinced herself she was really an alien that crashed on Roswell, NM back in the 1940's.

Besides, she didn't know anything for sure.

And the ones who knew the truth were sitting within the walls of the Theriault manor.

"Planning my big birthday party," she groaned as flashbacks of previous birthday balls filtered through her mind. It was great when she'd been sixteen, when she'd followed her parents' dream and become a debutante. Hadn't her decisions after high school to take her far away from the glitz and glamour that was the Theriault life-style shown her parents she didn't want to be a Paris Hilton or were her parents really that dense?

"I only hope they don't bring in that social of an ex Jody Caruso to the party." Another thing she'd done was date him to please her parents and high-class group of friends. Another person she'd separated from to get away from her socialite parents and group of friends.

Well started tomorrow she was relocating to California. It would be in Ritzy Los Angeles but she would be underground of out of the country most of the time. And nobody would know where she was anyway. Good by Theriault fame, hello independent Angela!

"Angie!" a pair of shrieks came out of the front door.

Ah yes. Her two perfect sisters Anastasia and Samantha. She quickly shoved the folder back into her briefcase and then rolled down the window. "Hi Ana, Sam," she smiled forcefully as she stared at her two older sisters. They were unlike her both blond, both tall, both dressed in expensive looking frock that barely clung to their lean figures. Both clueless about real life. "Are those the Dolce and Gabbana originals you two ordered a week ago?"

"Express delivery," Ana giggled, tossing her long blond hair behind her shoulders. "Yes!" Sam chimed in, doing a twirl. "Isn't it fantastic?"

Angela always felt it was ridiculous that her sisters felt they had to spend that much money to look good. Of course, she had spent major dough on her suits but they were going to be a part of her regular professional uniform. Those outfits her sisters were adorned in wouldn't see the light of another day unless retro came back in style. "On you, is there a questions?" Angela demanded as she stepped out of her car. "You two look hot!"

Angela was immediately smothered on both sides by blond bookends. "You're such a sweetie!" Samantha gushed, laying a kiss on one cheek. "A compliment from Angela keeps the gloom away!"

_Please tell me she was kidding_.

"Ditto!" the other bookend squealed but then looked at her sister's suit and slacks. "Tsk tsk," Anastasia chided, clicking her tongue. "You went for the whole day of your 27th Birthday wearing that? I know you think looking responsible is important but you can wear cuter clothes to that place you go. Come on, today was your last day, right?"

"Oh yeah, Agent Atkins would have really loved to see his best agent ruin her responsible reputation as well as his on graduation day," she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. "Sorry sisters but you've with me all my life and I carry myself in a class different from yours."

"Well, that may be true," Anastasia agreed, wrinkling her nose. "But you are going to change for your party tonight, aren't you? I mean, it's your special day."

"Right, and we wouldn't want to outshine the Birthday girl," Samantha cooed, pinching Angela's delicate cheeks.

Uh huh. Angela knew from every one of her previous birthday extravaganzas that the two bookends lived to outshine her. Which was just fine. If she didn't dress to impress, Jody Caruso wouldn't think she wanted to get back with him. "I don't know. I think I'll wear one of the spaghetti strap dresses I have hanging in my closet, maybe curl my hair…" Angela shrugged, forcing another smile so that they actually might buy her "effort."

"Not that tacky silk one covered with those outrageous flowers," Anastasia gasped, covering her mouth with a perfectly-manicured hand.

"The very tasteful one that actually covers my body, yes."

"Angie, naïve little Angie. Tonight is not only a birthday party. It is a day to impress the people in your circle, our parents and oh yes. That hot shot lawyer Jody Caruso will be making an appearance," Ana sang teasingly, very pleased with herself. She'd invited him of course despite what Angela wanted. "We need some eye candy at your party," she insisted year after year.

"You are as bad as mom and dad," Angela huffed as she locked the doors to her convertible. "Jody and I broke up two years ago to pursue our separate careers. We are mutually and completely over. I'm not dressing up to attract him," she put in indignantly but then her voice changed when she remembered the other thing her sister had mentioned. "….but what did you mean by our parents? I disappointed them and crushed their dreams when I decided to get a degree instead of lay around the pool for life," she reminded them, for once not giving a damn if she disappointed them or not. If what she'd found out that afternoon was true, they've achieved an all-time low with her.

"True but the surprise that mommy and daddy have prepared for your new life must be accepted in true Theriault style," Anastasia hinted, taking hold of one arm

"Which is why we took the liberty of spending today picking our what you're going to wear tonight, down to the rare tanzalite earrings and shade of cream blush," Samantha added, smiling evily as she took her youngest sister's other arm.

"Okay, these two bookends know something about tonight that is going to change my life. Wonder if it'll be as life changing as when I tell them that I'm leaving and that I can't tell them where I'm going," Angela wondered as her sisters steered her reluctant body towards their mansion's ornate entrance. "So this present, is it bigger than the yacht dad named after me when I turned twenty-one?"

Angela was actually surprised when Samantha whispered, "Oh trust me, it's much bigger."

"W…well, what is it? I know you want to tell me," Angela pointed out to Ana who looked ready to burst.

"Nope, I promised that I would let mother and father do the honors," Anastasia apologized with a beaming grin. "But it's huge. Just think of it as a family honored tradition that you finally get to be a part of. It will really make you feel that much like a member of the Theriault family."

Angela's heart sank at the mention of "Theriault." How well tonight went and how more in the family she felt was going to depend on how her parents reacted to the questions she had about the "Vaughn" they'd added to create Christine-Vaughn or Vaughn-Theriault.

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A/N 2: Hope you enjoyed reading. Lots of stuff happened here. Are you taking notes? LOL! First off, Vaughn is going to meet the new agent coming into the Agency and has been assigned as her supervisor in Sydney's absence. (We all know who she is, he doesn't, evil me) two, Sark and Angela are lying to each other, and both feeling they have a perfect relationship. What do you think is going to happen when Sark, Angela or…both of them find out their lover's true identities? And three…Angela is about to find out herself that she may be a Vaughn? Oh! We are so getting close to the reunion and for Michael it can't come a moment too soon!

Please review to let me know you're reading and stay tuned for the next chapter. The planets are going to feel as if they've shifted when the long lost daughter of William C. Vaughn finds out who she really is and the truth about what happened to her.

Till next time.

Total Vartan Lover 


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